18. More Space Than I Need
Posted on September 9, 2020
When I see gummy candies at check out, I miss my son. The red cherries on green stems, the peach flavored peaches, blue Smurfs that stain the tongue. Long ago, he dared me to eat sour patch kids. “Just take one taste, Mom.” What an assault on my tender buds. I lean toward Swedish Fish! Are they raspberry? It doesn’t matter. They’re two bites of yum that get stuck in my flipper denture, so I eat them toothless. A few times, I’ve left home without the flipper and didn’t remember until I lisped or smiled. It’s not a bad feeling, to give your mouth more space, although the tongue can’t stop worrying the place. “Take care of your teeth,” I tell my son, just so he’ll say “Okay, Mom,” because him calling me Mom never gets old. When he’s home again, we’ll eat worms.