When I was six years old I noticed a light brown birthmark on my left ankle. Well, it was actually in between my ankle and heel. Anyway, I told my mom, and for some reason she didn’t like it. I thought it was neat because it was in the shape of a star. We never really talked about it, and my mom told me over and over to never tell anyone. Everyday we would cover it up with makeup, even though my sock usually covered it. I think my mom liked covering it because it helped her believe that it wasn’t there.

I remember once in third grade, when I was around 8, we had a new exchange student from England. I noticed that she was very pretty and had on these weird sandals. While looking at her sandals I noticed she had the exact same birthmark that I did. It was the same shape, size, place, and a bit darker than mine.

That same day I talked to her at recess. “You have the same birthmark as I do,” I said. The girl looked a bit stunned and then replied, “There are many with the mark.”

“There are?!”

“Yes,” she smiled, somewhat amused. “Wow, how many?”

“Too many to count. One day we’ll all be together though.”

I smiled. Part of me didn’t like the tone she had, but deep down I was relieved that I would eventually be with everyone.

When I got home and looked at my own mark I noticed that it was the same shade as hers too. I realized that over the years it had become darker. I told my mom about the girl that night too.

“Mom! Guess what? I met a girl today with the same birthmark as me! She said that one day we’ll all be together.” I was really excited about this. I thought my mom would be happy for me, but instead she said, “What? Don’t you ever talk to anyone with the mark again! Do you hear me? Don’t even mention it!”

The next day I told the girl that I wasn’t allowed to talk to her anymore because my mom said so. She seemed to understand. I had no idea why my mom never wanted me to talk to this girl. I thought maybe my mom knew her mother, and maybe they got in a fight once. That’s what I thought. I didn’t get anywhere close to the truth.

Over time I forgot about the girl from third grade, and I never thought about my birthmark either. It was a daily ritual to put some makeup on it in the morning and never think about till the next morning. Things started becoming normal until 10th grade came. That’s when I finally found out the truth about my birthmark. My mark. My seal. My destiny.