Connective Tissue

by Julie Lambert | Trying to forgive.

Connective Tissue

When my dad’s dog, a beautiful thick-coated Samoyed, bit my two-year-old son’s face, my dad said, “He didn’t bite him. He just scratched him.” Bright, jagged gashes. Under his eye, across his cheek, on his lips. 

The plastic surgeon who cared for my son sewed thirteen stitches and said, “Such a cold January. I’ve seen so many dog bites this winter.” But she assured me, “He’s a handsome boy and always will be. You’ll never notice the scars.” 

Years later, I tell my therapist, “I could forgive my parents if they would accept some responsibility.”  

“No,” she said. “Can you forgive your parents for who they are?” 

I’m trying, but I’m afraid I’ll always see the scars. 


Julie Lambert is an emerging writer of poetry and nonfiction and is currently working on her debut memoir, “This Fluid Body.” She has attended writing residencies at Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, Grand Marais Art Colony, Arrowmont Pentaculum 2024, and Vashon Artist Residency. She is also a women’s health care practitioner who lives in the suburbs of Chicago with her family. More on Instagram.

This essay is a Short Reads original.

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