I took my daughter to the orthodontist. He, smiling and apologetic at the same time, said with few words that there is alot of work to do. Something along the lines of: We're gonna be buddies.
Impressions, spacers, expander, brackets.
She was sad and burrowed into my side.
I took her to the Mexican grocery store to cheer her up.
We gazed in wonder at the mounds of pan dulce and the rows of aqua con fruita in barrels of bright colors. Picnic tables in the grocery store where people ate and socialized together under the shine of huge pinatas and the ringing mariachi music.
We got our pan dulce and our crema mexicana and headed to the check out. She observed the staples in the belt that rolled our purchaces up to the yellow shirted employee. She said "Wal Mart and Tom Thumb don't have these."
I was suddenly 7 myself, standing at the checkout with Mom, eyes closed, finger resting on that moving belt, wanting to believe that it magically renewed itself, and that I wouldn't feel the metalic coolness of the staples grazing my finger. But I did, rendering me helpless to resist the impulse of counting the seconds to see how long it took to go around again.
Emma didn't have that luxury, since I wasn't doing the weekly shopping. But she noticed. She noticed it. Then I remembered noticing it too.
There is so much I would never recall if I did not have her. Things of my childhood are made doubly precious by the enriching experience of being a parent. She was sad to hear that she had to get braces. I was elated. Major difference, somehow making a discovery of a small similarity that much more delightful.