In response to Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is Temerity and the limit, 69 words.
Illness after illness has besieged me from a fairly young age. I was diagnosed, in the dark ages, with severe growing pains. With hyper-intuitive nerve ball endings, with shingles, with herpes, with over excitable pain receptors in my brain and later, as a teenager and budding woman, as a hypochondriac. Very dark ages!
Now it’s called Lupus. My secret for survival? Stubborn temerity!
Sitting down at the dinner table, finally! Only after a ten hour work day, driving my youngest teenage son to his soccer practice afterward, a row with my seventeen year old daughter about the mess not only she had bursting through the seams in her room but left everywhere she went! A trail followed behind her like Lionus from the old Charlie Brown cartoons, that was her. Except, the dust cloud of chaos followed behind her, generally, and not all around her. But, something had changed this evening.
I did notice she was eating very slowly and watching her covertly, I could tell she was having difficulty eating. Several emergent scenarios ran through my mind in a matter of milliseconds. Cavities, loose teeth, a sore jaw? Oh Lord no, no wisdom teeth removal expenses right now please Lord.
As I watched something glinted and caught my eye.
“Daughter,” said I. “Open your mouth please?”
She clamped down hard, and winced. Now I was angry. “Tell me I didn’t just see what I thought I just saw?!”
“Ahh Ma, don’t go getting all hysterical. It’s all the rage, it’s brand new and I love it … see?”
My sweet, innocent first born opened her mouth after swallowing her food and there in the middle of her tongue, sat a massive silver ball. She lifted her tongue to display the clasp on the other side, holding her new tongue piercing in. It was swollen, red, looked grotesque and I just wanted it out.
She hurriedly explained that it had to remain in until healed to prevent severe infection. Yes, I verified this via telephone with the parlor that I reminded them, had performed this illegal service on a minor without parental consent.
The parlor apologized profusely stating she looks 25 and in fact, would turn her away if ever she returned.
“Ma! Now they will never let me back in their store!” My daughter was livid. Getting up from the table to stomp back to her room. “Everyone I get something new, you take it away or forbid all together!”
“Daughter,” I whisper quietly through her now closed bedroom door, “Just because something is new, doesn’t necessarily mean it’s welcome.”
The heavy, window paned door slams shut behind me. The tinkling of the brass chimes hanging from the knob cheerfully serenade new-comers and sing of impending revenue to the shop owner.
My nostrils luxuriate in the heady aroma of worn bindings, weathered pages and endless dreams.
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 
