I was brushing my teeth yesterday and accidentally stretched my lip up under my nose and caught a sudden glimpse of what my skeleton-skull looks like. I was able, for the first time, to visualize the stumpy bone-holes of my nose. This was a first. I mean, I've stretched out my mouth before to try and have a look at my chopper area, that's always fun, but I've never gotten more of a view than that; this time somehow, I was able to picture that weird creepy cavern above my teeth. Hmmmm?
Mom!
Hnn.
What are you doing?
I'm looking at my skeleton-skull.
It's not called a skeleton-sk--, ughh, nevermi--,WHY?
I want to see what my body is going to look like when I die.
Oh (rolls eyes) (then gets scowl/worried look).
You wanna see? (I turn towards her)
(She pulls her head back but she doesn't turn away) Ew. (and then, I discover the real reason she's been humoring me) Can I have five bucks?
No, you have to look at my skeleton skull.
Mom!
Purse....Kitchen.
There was a time when it was easier to indulge. When any one of my kids could spend the better part of an hour pulling open each side of her/his mouth and looking into the mirror with me, imagining skulls, or skeletons in a science classroom, or even being in a box six feet under. Nevermore.
There are places to go. People to see. Things to do. Things that are fun, exciting, complicated and scary. Tragic even...Come back in here, I want to yell, let's look at our goddam cadavers!!
But all I hear is the door closing. Click.
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