Digging for Gold

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.

Photo "Me and Nana" provided by jenny818, via Flickr creative commons license.