Being a kid, I used to pull, hit and kick my teeth so I could wait all night to get the tooth fairy bring me anything, from a brother to the most useless crap. Sometimes I got a coin, once I even got a watch and, when I achieved my goal too late, I was told the overnight demand for tooth fairy visits exceeded the amount of time the tooth fairy had so I got a scratch paper.
Then my sister died.I learnt to keep my mouth shut, not to shout too loud while being pulled, kicked and hit in the mouth by the fact that no tooth fairy was going to fulfill my wishes, that the answers I was looking for couldn't be found under my pillow, that facing meaningles was a path I had to walk on my own despite of being surrounded by those who preached to find an answer in God and too many years later I came to find out my father had wandered around in a parallel road until he run out of fuel and decided to rejoin.
As the last member of a handicapped linage, I decided to ask for a last wish, remeber to forget and forget to remember so I could get a fresh start, focus on what I had instead of everything I lacked, find the joy in other's joy, freedom of mind in freedom of speech, my laugh in the most stupid joke when shared with the right one, summing up, the meaning of meaningfull things.
With my mouth full of blood and empty of teeth, I recouped my smile.
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