Growing Up and Serrated Teeth

When I was younger, all my front teeth were serrated. It used to bother me loads, especially as a teen, I thought they gave me a child’s smile. I’d run my nails through their edges, I’d grind my teeth together, wishing for it to go away.

Whenever I complained, my mother would tell me I shouldn’t worry about it, that time would smooth them out. And with a child’s inability to truly know nothing but the present, I did not believe her. Sometime along the way, though, that concern vanished, slipping away from my conscious mind.

Today, I was talking in front of a mirror and caught a glimpse of this now-straight edge, giving me immediate pause. I inspected my teeth, certainly straight now— sending mental credit to my mother— in awe of how unfamiliar they felt, thinking back to how it went unnoticed and how big of a problem it once seemed.

I smiled and it pained me, how much the reflection did not seem like a child’s.

PS: Funny, that. Smiling then at the irony, I thought, well, there we go. At least it can still feel like mine.