It’s weird looking at you in a plastic bag with remnants of my dried blood along your sides. All four of you used to have a home in my mouth - far away in the back where I never thought of you until you became rowdy tenants. I can’t say that I miss you-- that would be a lie.

All of my life, I’ve been used to teeth coming and going, falling out when appropriate and then new ones moving into their allotted spots, but you my dear friends, had to be unceremoniously yanked out. Yup, you four.

I don’t relish the pain, the soreness, the earaches and the swollen gum tissue that your absence caused. But honestly, the sleepless nights are worth it. Now that you are gone, I’ve formed a lovely, devoted relationship to an icepack that only leaves my side when it is lukewarm and needs to take a quick visit to the freezer. We spend almost every waking and sleeping minute together, and it’s all because of you.

I was scared before I evicted you. I wasn’t sure that I would be able to handle the day - 8 a.m. on a Monday to be exact - when you would ungraciously leave the confines of my mouth. A part of my didn’t want you to pack your bags and leave. I awoke later that day in a dentist chair with white fluorescent lights scowling down at my blinking eyes to find you gone forever. Four empty, bleeding pockets in my mouth reminded me that we never really said a proper goodbye.

The transition period, which I am still going through, hasn’t been easy. All four of you left pits and scars and stitches that have to heal in their own time. My cheeks remind me of a bloated pufferfish. I don’t know when I will ever be able to finally crunch down on crisp sourdough toast or open my mouth wide enough to shove in half of an In-N-Out cheeseburger. At night while I’m lying in bed in agony waiting for the extra strength Tylenol to kick in, I’m worry if I can bleed to death or accidentally rip the stitches or, heaven forbid, get dry socket.

It hasn’t been all bad, though. The lime green Jell-O, chocolate pudding, applesauce and cherry-flavored yogurt bars are perks. “The Big Bang Theory” and “Gilmore Girls” marathons in bed are also enjoyable distractions. Sometimes I find myself getting nostalgic, wondering whether the headache-inducing pain and bruising are worth it. Maybe if you had stayed, everything would be fine, but then I remember that you were an unruly set of molars whose only job was to ruin my relationship with all of my other teeth. My two top crooked canines are pointing at you.

I don’t regret what happened. You had to go - all four. You crowded the other teeth like a bad roommate that makes all of the other residents feel uncomfortable. One of you in particular, kept pushing on a nerve, causing sore throats and dagger-stabbing pains shooting through my lower right jaw line.

I have begun a new life without you. They say that “time heals all wounds,” including you. Besides, you’ll make fine gold-tipped dangling earrings after all.

Sincerely,