January 2, 2013

My dearest,

I am a little grumpy today. (Okay, a lot.)

I had a wisdom tooth removed yesterday and my gums are still sore. My whole body feels sore, come to think of it. I have gotten fatter and older. I am a spoiled 33-year-old expecting the world to be delivered to me on a silver platter.

Or at least this is what I tell myself in my worst moments of self-pity. It could well be the drugs my dental surgeon gave me.

My poor, overworked baby: you, quite wisely, ignore me. You have been telling me to shut up since yesterday (which is what you usually does anyway, but this time you had an excuse).

Doctor’s orders to rest my jaws. More instructions: no food that is hot, spicy, fried, caffeinated, etc. This just about covers anything remotely tasty, really.

While I continue groaning on the sofa, you make congee for me, with nuggets of minced pork and steamed eggs. You let it cool in a large bowl and remind me to eat it before it got cold.

My gums are still sore, of course, but I had never tasted anything more delicious, I swear.

You simply roll your eyes but you can’t quite hide a little smile.

Just eat it while it’s hot, you say.

I nod but I can’t hide my smile either; better to have you admonishing me than not.

Yours, ever and always.