By Elizabeth Glass
My four-year-old niece, Cheyenne, runs toward me, jumps into my arms when I arrive at her house in the woods. I pull her up, our faces are close. She smiles, raises her hand. “Can I see your pretty teeth?” I open my mouth, gold crowns gleam and shimmer like sparkly jewelry in back, crowns I wish were white as the clover flowers we make tiaras out of, but then I’d miss this. “Can I touch?” I nod. She reaches in and rubs her small finger against my golden back molars, reading the Braille of love along the tops of my pretty teeth.
Elizabeth Glass holds Masters degrees in Creative Writing and Counseling Psychology. She has received grants from the Kentucky Foundation for Women and the Kentucky Arts Council, and won the 2013 Emma Bell Miles Prize in nonfiction. Her writing has appeared in New Plains Review; Still: The Journal; Writer’s Digest; The Chattahoochee Review; and other journals. She lives in Louisville, Kentucky.
Photo by jenny818 courtesy of Flickr
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