Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Monday, July 02, 2007
Blood, gore and a tiny little fairy
When I was small, losing my baby teeth was a traumatic experience -- for everyone in my family. I hated the feeling of the loose tooth in my mouth, hated the blood, hated everyone telling me it was no big deal.
The one silver lining was the tooth fairy. I believed in her very much, especially because she managed to find me no matter where in the world we lived, even the cul-de-sac in suburban Rome where we were at the time.
Except one time she didn't come.
I woke up the morning after another harrowing and messy loss and checked for her present under my pillow. The going rate for a tooth back then was 25 cents, but it wasn't there. I looked inside my pillowcase, behind the mattress, under the bed... nothing. I accused my brothers of playing a trick on me.
My parents explained that sometimes these things happen, that there had been an earthquake in Sicily and that other children needed more help than I did. I tried to be selfless and somehow, somebody managed to console me. We got through the day, but my faith was badly shaken. How could she have forgotten? I mean, there were all those tears and all that blood, how could she not remember that?
The next morning I woke up and took a peek under my pillow in the off-chance that I had missed something. There it was! My shiny quarter! But there was something else too. Underneath the coin was a small piece of folded paper. It was a note of apology from my friend the tooth fairy. The note was written in block letters that only vaguely disguised my father's own handwriting. It was signed "Love, T.F." -- short for tooth fairy. Years later I would receive others notes from my father -- these would be signed "Love, D." -- short for Dad.
The one silver lining was the tooth fairy. I believed in her very much, especially because she managed to find me no matter where in the world we lived, even the cul-de-sac in suburban Rome where we were at the time.
Except one time she didn't come.
I woke up the morning after another harrowing and messy loss and checked for her present under my pillow. The going rate for a tooth back then was 25 cents, but it wasn't there. I looked inside my pillowcase, behind the mattress, under the bed... nothing. I accused my brothers of playing a trick on me.
My parents explained that sometimes these things happen, that there had been an earthquake in Sicily and that other children needed more help than I did. I tried to be selfless and somehow, somebody managed to console me. We got through the day, but my faith was badly shaken. How could she have forgotten? I mean, there were all those tears and all that blood, how could she not remember that?
The next morning I woke up and took a peek under my pillow in the off-chance that I had missed something. There it was! My shiny quarter! But there was something else too. Underneath the coin was a small piece of folded paper. It was a note of apology from my friend the tooth fairy. The note was written in block letters that only vaguely disguised my father's own handwriting. It was signed "Love, T.F." -- short for tooth fairy. Years later I would receive others notes from my father -- these would be signed "Love, D." -- short for Dad.
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