I was doing a writing exercise and it suggested some possible happy memories that I could write about. “How I Lost My First Tooth” was on the list.

NOT a happy memory, but an interesting story, nonetheless.

We were all in a tree. I have no memory of climbing the tree. Frankly, I’m surprised I was able to get up there, but up there I was and I had no idea how I was going to get down.

The others were swinging down using a cord attached to a branch. One, two, three, they all swung down, finally leaving me alone in the tree.

“Swing down! It’s easy!”

“It will hurt my hands.” The cord was thin and I imagined it cutting into my hands.

“No, it’s easy, I’ll show you.” He quickly climbed back up the tree and swung down again. He was a lot smaller than I was. I was a fat girl, you see. If I held that cord, it would cut my hands.

“Why don’t you put the rope in your mouth?”

That made sense. My teeth wouldn’t get shredded like the skin on my hands. I had seen a lady on Circus of the Stars hang by her teeth and twirl around and around. If she could do that, I could swing down with a rope in my mouth. I put the cord into my mouth and jumped.

When I woke up, all the kids were surrounding me. The dad was there too. Where did he come from? There was the taste of blood in my mouth. My mom never let me play over at their house again.

I never found my tooth.