The death of the tooth

I lost my first tooth at 7, right before the end of second grade.

Know that in my house there were no such things as the "tooth fairy" and that losing your teeth was part of the natural process that is growing up. I told my mom about the tooth, she told me to throw it out... What?!? Throw out my tooth? I have had that tooth since my memory could work, throwing it out was not an option. So I did what felt dignified... I held a funeral for it. I made a coffin out of two bottle caps and taped them together. Held mass for it, Bety attended... And payed her respects, so did my imaginary friends who all said something about it while I dug the hole for it in the side of the house where there was sand for construction. I also made a cross to identify its location.

I told my mom who found it to be the funniest thing and asked me to show her where my tooth was buried and I asked her to please tell mi tío Rubén That he was not allowed to use that sand, since it was the sacred place of my tooth.

A few weeks later, after the dance show and the elementary school graduation was over, I dug up my tooth... I wanted to see what it looked like. It was moldy and stinky; and to date my brain can't add up what happened to it after that.