So, my middle red had a wobbly tooth.
A stubborn wobbly tooth. For ages. Interestingly reflecting the nature of the child’s whose mouth it refused to budge from.
And if I was to believe said child, she is the last grade 1 kid in the whole world who has yet to lose a tooth.
We’ve all had a wobble. We’ve all had a pull. We can press it back into her mouth – but it won’t wobble forward.
“Maybe it’s scared,” I offered as she sat in the bath on Wednesday,”maybe it just doesn’t want to let go.”
“Why wouldn’t it want to let go,” was the reply,”when it falls out it will become a star.”
So we sang to the stuck tooth. Songs of bravery. Songs of strength.
Songs of stars.
But it still wouldn’t fall out.
Friday night was the eve of the super full moon. The house was filled with the light from outside and full of life from the warmth within. My eldest pushed her tongue into a molar and it fell, bloody into her hand. Within 10 minutes her friend did the same. Both girls laughing into blood soaked face washers was too much for my middle red to take.
She took to that tooth on the bottom of her gum with a fury that made her mouth bleed.
But the tooth wouldn’t let go.
We went about our evening. Game playing. Story telling. Pizza eating.
Until middle red came softly to me with wide eyes,”it’s out.”
She handed me gently the culprit of the last few weeks frustration. It was the smallest, perfect white tooth. With a droplet of blood at the base.
She went back to her friends where there was much talk about teeth and stars and the universe in general, while I stood in the kitchen staring at the tooth. Remembering the first time this smallest, perfect white tooth stamped it’s mark on her being. The ammonia smelling nappies, the red cracked cheeks, the dribble stained chin. When this screaming newborn child rolled over to become my beautiful baby daughter.
And now my baby daughter has let go of her first tooth.
Think standing poses, balance and inversions.
There is a time to let go of that which does not serve us. Even these things that we hurt to gain. Sometimes we have be brave. Sometimes we have to be strong.
Sometimes we just have to be ready.
I step back often to watch my small folk evolve. I find it easier to watch their growth than to watch myself. As I see them change, with every light filled moon, I watch the reflection of my own reluctance to move forwards. My own ease to wobble back. And with this awareness, it’s easier to greet myself fully with an open Truth – that replenishes my very being.
Today, my middle red told me she missed her tooth. So tonight we walked out into the cold. And in the fading fullness of the moon, we watched the stars.