Flickering Rememberances

The clock glowed 3:36am. She opened her eyes and got out of bed. The tile floor was cold on her bare feet as she headed to the refrigerator. Still half asleep, she found the bottle of baby formula, poured the contents into an empty bottle and placed it into the microwave. When the formula was heated, she screwed the nipple on and squirted a drop onto the underside of her wrist to be sure that it would not burn the baby's mouth. Again, her feet felt the cold ceramic tile of the foyer, as she headed to the stairs that led up to the bedrooms-- but she didn't climb the stairs. She detoured to the mantle in the living room and stared long at the picture in the gold frame, a single votive candle flickering silently in front of it...


Miranda could still remember that day as if it were yesterday...


She had awoken that morning at the sound of her daughter's cry. She reluctantly dragged herself out of bed and trudged toward the baby's room secretly wishing her husband was still with her to tend to the baby at night like he used to. Todd had decided that a family just wasn't for him, so he packed himself up and left.


Halfway to Stephanie's room, her calls ceased. Miranda, hoping that the baby had gone back to sleep, continued to her room to check in on her. She entered the baby's room and tiptoed over to the crib. A wave of panic came over her-- Stephanie was turning blue! She quickly leaned over the crib and picked up the baby. She tried shaking her, nothing. She patted her on the back, still nothing. Miranda turned the child over and opened her mouth. Plunging her finger into Stephanie's mouth, Miranda felt around for her tongue, but it was too late. Stephanie's tongue was so far lodged down her throat that Miranda could not free her in time. The three-month-old's tiny body fell limp in Miranda's arms, and Miranda crumbled to the floor, clutching the baby to her bosom and crying uncontrollably.


Three months ago today, Miranda thought, I lost my beautiful baby girl. She lowered her head and, placing the bottle on the mantle, left the room weeping silently to herself.


For three months, Miranda had a ritual of getting up just around 3:30am and filling a bottle with formula. She would then bring the bottle into the living room and set it before the picture on the mantle and return to her bedroom. When she got up the next morning she would sadly dispose of the still full bottle.

She climbed the stairs to her bedroom, stopping only once to glance back at the glow of the candle. She walked down the hallway toward Stephanie’s room instead of entering the emptiness that was her own. Her hand pressed on the doorknob and she drew in a deep breath. She wanted to go back to that day. She wanted to try to do something different that might have saved her baby’s life. Stephanie was her only link to her sanity after Todd left and now without her, she had nothing.


She hadn’t touched this room since the day she died, and the cobwebs showed. She sat in the rocking chair that was placed next to the crib, an optimal place for late night and early morning feedings. The dust was thick, three months worth of dust. Her fingers left long traces in it as she gently brushed the gate of the crib. In the distance somewhere she could hear a baby cry. Miranda picked up her head and listened hard. It seemed to be coming from somewhere within the house, but she couldn’t tell exactly where. She rose from the rocking chair and opened the door. The cries became louder. She walked down the hall and opened the door to her bedroom. The cries sounded like they were coming from downstairs. She bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen where she had just filled a new bottle and placed on the mantle in the living room. She thought that perhaps the neighbors had had a baby and that was the sound she heard. She opened the back door that led to the yard and leaned out. The cries were not coming from anywhere outside the house. The baby was somewhere in her house.


“I’m coming Stephanie!” she gasped and raced to the foot of the stairs. The cries suddenly seemed to get louder and more intense. They were coming from upstairs. “My baby! Mommy’s coming!” She reached for the banister and hurried up the stairs. Suddenly, silence, the same as the morning Stephanie died. Miranda’s heart was racing. She was at the door. She pushed it open with all her might and ran to the crib. There, lying peacefully, was her beautiful baby girl. Three months of decay had taken her skin and her beautiful blond hair from her but she was still as breathtaking as the day she was born. She picked up the corpse and cradled it in her arms. In the distance, she could hear the phone ringing. The answering machine picked up the call.


“Miranda, it’s me, Todd. Listen, I’ve been thinking. Maybe it’s time that I met Stephanie. She’s six months old now and I think that she deserves a father. It was stupid of me to just get up and leave like that. I want to be a part of her life. I want to be a part of yours. Please call me.”


She held her daughter’s corpse closer to her bosom and sat in the rocking chair. She smiled to herself. She finally had all that she wanted. Todd wanted to come back and they were going to raise Stephanie together and have a wonderful life.


Clutching her dead child to her body as she did that painful morning three months earlier, Miranda's eyes closed forever and her soul lifted from the empty shell she had become.
Downstairs, the bottle left on the mantle fell to the floor and the candle before the picture of the precious mother and daughter flickered once and went out...