My son has been working on it for weeks. Wiggling, pushing his
tooth back and forth with his tongue sometimes even until it bled. And I couldn’t
have been more ready for it to fall out. His first top tooth fell out about a
week ago, and the lone one left was hanging on by a thread. Pointing the
complete wrong direction. I sent him to school day after day with this crooked
snaggletooth praying it would be gone by the time I picked him up. Until finally,
yesterday he pried it out and came running triumphantly to my room before 7 am,
tiny tooth in hand. On a Saturday. It is hard to fake excitement before I have
had coffee and he has lost enough teeth by now that the tooth fairy is ready to
take on a second job just to keep up. And even without my contacts in, I could
see the Grand Canyon of gaps across the top of
his mouth and I suddenly couldn’t get
enough of his gummy grin. It reminds me of his guy:
The last few days I keep asking him to smile for me, and
occasionally snapping photos. I am in love with these gaps. His grin is for
sure the cutest, but when it comes to my kids there are plenty of places that I
leave room. I buy their shoes just a tad too big, and their pants a little too
long. I know that eventually they will fill them.
Time. Space. Margin. Rest.
I was not like my son, triumphant
over each loss. Instead I grieved them. Whined about them. And quickly tried to
fill them with anything or anyone I could find.
But I am starting to see that
maybe this space isn’t so bad. That they are in fact gifts. That growth happens in the gaps. In the spaces
where we leave room for it. Not in plates that are too full or calendars that
are doublebooked or even in pants that are too tight. And although I’d like to keep all my teeth, I will try to welcome gaps and
space as they show up. Understanding, that things will have to pulled and
tugged loose to make room. Space created from loss for something bigger and
better and more permanent to fill.
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