A few months ago, I was eating a Lifesaver (I am addicted to the Wint-o-green. I MUST have them in my office at ALL times) and when I bit down on the half-sucked “o” I felt a crack in my mouth. I reached in and there it was: a piece of chipped off tooth. I tongued the area to find [what felt like] a huge hole. Of course, I grabbed the nearest mirror to inspect. It wasn’t a huge hole. In fact, I couldn’t really tell what had happened. It chipped of the side of a tooth, but I couldn’t see a difference.

But I could feel that hole. As the days, then months wore on, I tongued that hole all day, every day. It went from feeling huge and sharp to feeling normal. It wasn’t huge or sharp anymore. It was totally normal.

You can get used to anything, given enough time.

When I went to the dentist a few weeks ago, he noticed the chip right away. He told me I had actually chipped a side filling I had (I don’t pay attention to that sort of thing). He wanted to repair it. I didn’t think twice about it. Since the dentist is the one doctor I’m not afraid of, I generally do whatever he tells me to. Yesterday I went in to have it fixed.

The hole is gone. It’s devastating. Once again, I spend all day tonguing the spot, but not finding what I am looking for. I look in the mirror, but can’t see a difference. I can’t find my missing hole.

I am certain that, in a few months, I won’t notice my lack of hole anymore. Today? Today I miss it. I search for it. This morning, before I was even fully awake, my tongue went searching, probing; desperate to find that comforting spot. But eventually, I will stop looking.

If you wait long enough, I won’t care.

As random as this all is, it applies to my life at the moment. Especially to my brother. Somedays, I go searching. I send out feelers, hoping to find something that’s no longer there. The time is coming that I will be used to this missing piece in my soul.

The time is coming that I won’t care anymore.