Yesterday I had another tooth taken out.

My dentist showed the dear thing to me after she extracted it.
It resembled any other normal molar, except for a C-shaped cut that resembled a scar one might receive after having the appendix removed. Maybe it was from the previous fillings.

“There’s nothing much we can do about this one,” my dentist told me. “And it doesn’t serve much purpose: there’s no opposite tooth on the bottom jaw to help you with chewing,” she said.

The said tooth gave me a really painful sting earlier in the morning. I immediately called the clinic for a filling, but to my surprise, I had an extraction. My belief was that dentists would try to preserve teeth as much as possible. One less tooth in our mouth means one less potential client. Not this time. The tooth had to go.

I was really happy that the pain was gone for good, but I also felt a sudden sadness as I got up from the dental chair.

Apart from the literal void of the spot where the tooth used to sit, I also felt a little empty, like the feeling of being left. It’s like a piece of me had left after being together for more than—who knows—40 years? It was there when I grew up; it was there when I was alone, when I was in doubt, when I fell in love—it was with me everywhere, all the time.

Now it’s gone.

My dentist asked if I wanted to take it home since I seemed melancholy about it. I told her I’d be okay. I will write about it. A kind of closure, I guess.
So here I am the next morning, at the airport, awaiting my flight, feeling weird. Something is missing, but I’m not sure what it is.

Slowly and gently, I poked with the tip of my tongue where the tooth was before.

To my surprise, I don’t really feel its absence, like it was never there.
Maybe because it was at the farthest end, and sat at the very back of my mouth.

Maybe that’s how life is. When all is well, no one cares. We only notice it when it’s in bad shape, and we felt the pain.

A lot of people in life are like that. They’re behind the curtains, at the back. Behind the scenes of life. Maybe they don’t look important enough. They’re just behind. Outside the spotlight ring, where no one notices.
But we all know that everything that exists, exists for a reason.

Thank you, tooth.

Maybe this is why you’re called wisdom.