Sandra Birdsell

“My mother put her hand to her mouth, remembering the treacherous, loose teeth. Her dentures needed relining. She kept putting it off, saving every extra cent to send one of the talented little kids into the city each week to study the trumpet... Years ago, she had cried and spit blood into the slop bucket because they couldn't afford to have her teeth fixed, only pulled all at once and false ones put in place. For weeks she seemed to be all teeth, two rows of gleaming porcelain in her bruised face. She wouldn't go anywhere. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and moaned. But now, a hand was sufficient to cover the embarrassment of teeth dropping down unexpectedly, revealing a pink moist space for all to see. My father played bingo at the Legion and had won an ironing board, a clock and last week, the jackpot. It was rolled up inside a tumbler in the cupboard, money to reline my mother's teeth.”
― Sandra Birdsell, Ladies of the House