pieces

I felt the tooth crack, and then shatter like a stone in the garden. Salt Lake’s finest and oldest buildings are formed from Rocky Mountain granite and yet one quick blow from my shovel fractures the rock into tiny grey and white crystals.

Spitting the fragments into my palm my tongue probes the hollow– how will I pay for this? what have I done wrong? why didn’t I go to my last check-up?– and then the next tooth crumbles and the next and the next, I’m coughing out shards and grief as I shake myself into wakefulness.

Dampened with sweat, I pull myself away from Mary’s curved form and tuck in blankets to replace my warmth. Erik is out of town and my bedroom is a minefield of toys and small bodies who love to play slumber party when daddy is gone. Tripping to the bathroom and a glass of water, I examine my teeth– imperfect, several cavities and a root canal for each baby– but clearly intact.

Read the rest of this story at segullah.org/blog/
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