Like False Teeth

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Not long after Amina's parents passed on, she was placed with a foster family- Mr. and Mrs. Bello. They were kind people. Their house had fresh curtains, clean tiles, and the smell of fried plantains in the air. They gave her her own room, helped with homework, and remembered her birthday. They were doing everything right.To Amina, it didn't feel the same, she missed her late parents so much that she wasn't satisfied with all the foster parents were doing.

The way Mrs. Bello said “good morning” reminded her of how her real mother used to sing it. Mr. Bello laughed too loud , not like her father, whose laughter was low and warm, like thunder rolling in on a cool afternoon. At dinner, Amina smiled when she was expected to, said thank you when she was supposed to but inside, her heart still had an unfilled space.

She started sleeping in class. Not out of laziness, but because dreams were the only place where she could sit at the dinner table with her parents again.

One afternoon, her class teacher, Miss Lara, called her aside after everyone had left.
“Amina,” she said gently, “I’ve noticed you’ve been sleeping in class a lot lately. You used to be so bright and curious. What’s going on?”

Amina didn’t answer right away. Her fingers picked at a thread on her uniform. Then quietly, she whispered, “I try to be okay. I try to be happy. They’re nice, really. But sometimes I just… I miss my mum and dad so much. And no one smells like them. No one laughs like them. It all feels… fake.”

Miss Lara was quiet for a moment and then said “Do you know what false teeth are?”
Amina blinked. “Teeth that aren’t real?”
“Yes,” Miss Lara smiled. “False teeth don’t grow. They don’t replace what you’ve lost. But they help you smile again. They help you eat. Speak. Live. They help you move forward.”

She reached out and gently touched Amina’s hands.
“Your foster parents may not be the ones who gave you your first smile… but they’re helping you find your next one. That doesn’t mean forgetting your mum and dad. It means learning to live again. To carry your love for them while letting yourself feel something new.”

That night, Amina sat on her bed, the photo of her parents still on the side table, her father’s arm wraped around her mother, both of them grinning.
“I still miss you,” she whispered.
The warmth of her foster mother’s voice called her from the kitchen to come out for dinner.
And for a moment, the pain in her heart softened.

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