Remembering Tooth #5

And all those others taken for granted

Once upon a time, not all that long ago, tiny tooth buds nestled in a minute peanut shape. Month by month, protection grew around them. Two rows of buds, deep and deeper, they nestled safely. When the baby saw the light of day, the teeth stayed hidden in the dark.

But in due time, these tiny pearls of white made their appearance. One by one, hot with pressure and pain, they pushed their way into a petite smile, each greeted with ooo’s and aaah’s.

Adorable, and sharp! And temporary. For that second layer of teeth pushed out the first.

At least, that’s the theory. The textbook order. But what this particular tooth, tooth #5, witnessed would prompt his execution.

At first, it all seemed beneficial. The entire top gum was spacious. Where 16 adult teeth would be expected, only 14 pushed through. On the right, no one pushed, so the baby stayed.

The trouble didn’t seem problematic. Tooth #4 just never showed up. Not in view, not within the gum, not ever.

Tooth #5 didn’t mind. Sure, it was peculiar being neighbors with a baby. I mean, a baby didn’t even have a number. But #5 was open-minded. He was happy to tolerate a stray leftover — even if it was for thirty years longer than normal.

But the baby did eventually give up. After all, its narrow single root wasn’t made for the rigors of adult life. One day, it simply slid out.