Dental Drama
Sitting at the dining room table after dinner, I absentmindedly run my tongue along the back of my bottom front teeth. One tooth feels thicker and smoother than the others. My mind jumps briefly to the day I clutched my throbbing chin, wet hands trembling, as tooth fragments filled my mouth.
It was the summer of 1972, and only Dr. Davis had a pool in our neighborhood. It was the crown jewel of summer, an in-ground beauty with a diving board. Once a week, I would walk across the street to my friend Kathy’s house, then with swimsuits on and beach towels slung over our arms. We’d walk through her backyard, cut through the neighbor’s yard, and circle around to the front of the doctor’s house. On his porch, we rang the doorbell, and Mrs. Davis always answered.
“Can we go swimming?” Kathy would ask.
And Mrs. Davis always said, “Yes.”
Inside the fenced pool area, we played with beach balls and air mattresses. We dove, splashed, screamed, and laughed so loud the neighbors probably heard us blocks away. Disaster was moments away…
I stood on the diving board while Kathy floated on an air mattress in the middle of the pool. After jumping and yelling, “I’M KING OF THE MOUNTAIN,” my chin collided with the top of Kathy’s head.
The aftermath? A chipped top tooth and a shattered bottom tooth, making me look like a jack-o’-lantern. It was two days before Second Grade was to begin, and I swore I’d never smile again.
I don’t remember how quickly I saw the dentist, but soon enough, I had the first of many temporary caps. Each lasted a year or two before needing replacement.
Finally, in high school, after my braces came off, it was time for a permanent cap. Unfortunately, my dentist asked me to choose the color. Instead of matching the shade to the rest of my teeth, I, being the optimist I’ve always been, picked a shade whiter. It didn’t match then, and it certainly didn’t match ten or thirty years later.
It wasn’t until nearly fifty years after the “accident” that I finally worked with my current dentist to file down my top tooth and replace the cap. Finally, a match!
Teeth have a way of sticking around in our memories, even more stubbornly than they do in our mouths. Whether they’re chipped, capped, or perfectly pearly, they tell stories—of childhood mishaps, of teenage optimism, and of the detours life throws at us. And as I run my tongue over that tooth (just now) I can’t help but smile.
Sometimes, life’s imperfections are what make our stories—and our smiles—a bit more interesting.
Click here to check out other Sidetracked opinions
Click here to listen to the Sidetracked Stories podcast
Want to create your own legacy? Join the Sidetracked Sisters and start now!
Ever thought about working with a Life Coach? Are you creative or a writer who is frustrated with your inability to do the work you so desperately feel called to do? Check out Lisa Hoffman Coaching.
#sidetrackedsisters #sidetrackedlisa #sidetrackedlegacies #legacywriting #legacystories #writeyourownlegacy #LisaHoffmanCoaching
