The dental hygienist tells me about fishing trips to Lake Ontario, sailing far out into the lake where the land was no longer visible. Like the ocean she tells me. You can’t do that in Vermont.
With her gloved thumb, she presses on my lower jaw, my source of infection and misery and a veritable hemorrhage of money. The December before the pandemic, an oral surgeon took a scalpel to my gum and cut. A few days later, my brother and his girlfriend arrived for the holidays. He grilled on the back porch and drank beer while I leaned against the clapboards. In the kitchen, my daughters and his girlfriend cooked and baked.
On his phone, we studied footage of China, closed up and quarantined, back in the days when we couldn’t envision our own streets and highways closed up, the border closed between Vermont and my brother’s house in New Hampshire.
In a world of enormous possibilities, that bone infection is currently on the down low. The hygienist tells me I wouldn’t believe the things she’s seen — fishing, and in the dentist’s office. On my way out, she cheerily reminds me about floss.
Here’s a 100-story of mine published this morning about happiness.
“The ability to tell your own story, in words or images, is already a victory, already a revolt.”
— Rebecca Solnit
Stony Soil Vermont 
As one who has had many cuts to his gums, thanks for sharing! Not feeling so alone now with my painful, embarrassing unanticipated dental travails. Also, continued appreciation for your dispatches from the land of green and some old family ties. thank you!
Sadly, dental issues appear ubiquitous. Good luck with yours. Nice to hear of your VT connections…
Your 100 word story brings back many of the feelings and emotions I felt with my infant daughter in just about the same year. We had a tie-died onesie that all five of her cousins once wore. Stupidly, we lost it on a ferry when she had a violent bowel explosion, and we were beside ourselves trying to clean up the mess. Her little brother didn’t get to join the onesie tradition.
Well, at least there’s a good story that’s been passed along. That’s something!
I am sorry about your dental problems but glad to hear it is getting better. Your 100 word story was a lot of fun. However, being Swedish, I should mention that the word “Kärlek” means “love”. Words for joy are for example glädje, fröjd, nöje, lycka. I am just curious, it is intentional that you don’t have a “like” button?
I stand corrected. It’s an interesting thing…. I could maybe do a little swapping…. and I’d be curious to know the different shades of all those Swedish words. (Clearly, I am not Swedish.:)) I removed the ‘like’ button a number of years ago. Counting of likes seemed to feed a kind of competition in my writing that inherently seemed informant. Again: interesting point.
Such a lovely story AND photo!
Thank you for sharing your writing. I loved The Swedish Word for Joy, as I love each and every post of yours that lands in my inbox. I’ve no idea how exactly I stumbled across you, but I’m so glad I did.
That is so nice of you to write this! Thank you!!