Kids

Birth of a Memory

By Jill N Davies

She was alone. Of course, she was used to being alone, but that didn’t change the existence of the knowledge of such a thing. She had Mommy and Daddy and phone with Gamma and Gampa, but that was it. That and knowing that the big outside was empty.

Knowledge was a powerful thing. It was like history, or existing right now.

Knowledge was also a new thing to for Ellie. It was like an extra awareness, or sense of the world. It added to the day—made toys more interesting, told her that chocolate was in the cupboard whether or not she ate her broccoli, and confirmed that Daddy existed even if the door to the office room was shut.

Knowledge also made Ellie crave something else.

“Mommy!”

“Yes baby?” her voice was always so kind. A balm she never realized she needed.

Ellie scrunched up her face in extreme concentration. It was too easy to disconnect the thoughts and the words. That ruined the whole effort.

“Go? Walking. Unnnit dem?”

She watched Mommy. It was the only way to determine that the message was received. Her stomach churned with excitement and apprehension. She fingered her plushie dog’s ear nervously as she waited.

“Okay. I’ll check to see if we can today, Sweetie.”

Too many words. But she knew okay. And she knew Sweetie was her. She had to keep watching.

Mommy looked at her screen with a scrunched up face. There was a big silence that lasted through a whole bunch of breaths. Ellie kept watching and thinking. Trying very hard to know.

“We’ve got a three-block radius right now with a mandatory recheck in an hour,” Mommy said. She turned to Ellie with a big smile, “Let’s go outside Kid.”

Ellie knew she was also Kid. Additionally, she knew that the request had worked. Outside meant walking, which meant she would get to continue her search. She stomped her feet in excitement as Mommy gathered their shoes from the locked room. She giggled so freely it almost sounded like a sob.

They did their shoes. Mommy’s then Ellie’s. Then came the masks and gloves and hats, next, the door. There were lots of clicks and turns and clanks and then it was open. Mommy reached for Ellie’s hand and they stepped out together.

Outside was always hot. Not hot like the stove or cooked cheese, but still hot. The ground was almost like cooked cheese if she put her hand on it, but the trees and plants and walls were usually less hot. Rocks were in between. She still hadn’t figured out the reason for the hot, or the why for the way everything was different hot. Mommy said it was the sun, but that didn’t make sense because the sun was up in the sky with the big brown clouds and it never touched the ground where it was the most-hot.

But that wasn’t what Ellie wanted to look for today—she needed to stay focused, which was a very hard thing for a two-year-old to do.

They moved down the pathway onto the sidewalk, turning left like always. Ellie squinted down the street, searching. Each step took her on a zig-zag trajectory that was the opposite of Mommy and Daddy’s smooth, straight forward motion.

She moved past the white fire hydrant with chips of smooth black showing through. Past the pricker-bushes in front of the saggy house. She moved so quickly that her lungs stung and Mommy called at her, “Slow down speedy!”

Ellie stopped by the wooden steps five houses away. It was a stopping place and she needed it. Mommy was right there, like always, but this time she waited while Ellie caught her breath. She watched Mommy to understand why the stopping was okay today.

Mommy’s eyes were far away, looking at something that Ellie hadn’t found yet. Her mouth was straight—not happy and not sad. She glanced back like she was checking on Ellie.

“We might have to turn back early today kiddo.”

She saw it then—movement coming from the edge of the street, on the other sidewalk. A Mommy. But there was more. Next to the Mommy, and small, just like her, another person walked. A kid.

She watched them as Mommy scooped her up, saying “Gotta go.”

Ellie should’ve been furious. All the looking. Then, she finally saw and Mommy scooped her away. She should’ve kicked and screamed and protested for “DOWN!” She should’ve been sobbing giant tears.

But she wasn’t.

Underneath the long white sleeves, hidden beneath the big hat and walking next to the Mommy was a kid. Seeing the kid did something inside of her—she felt it, knew it.

Blond hair sticking out of a red cap. Chubby hands grasping with warmth like Mommy’s hug. Giggles and squeals. Half a dozen little voices singing along with awkward gestures to “Itsy Bitsy.”

It was in her head but it was real—they were real. There were other kids and now she knew it. She could hear their voices on the inside just as clearly as she could hear the little voice on the other side of the street uttering an incoherent “Ahyee.”

Ellie kept her gaze focused on them as she wrapped her arm around Mommy’s neck. Enraptured she whispered into the soft, familiar crevice.

“Mommy, kids.”

“I know baby. You’re right. That’s a kid,” Mommy agreed as they made their way back home.

“Kids,” she said again, this time to herself. The image of the red cap, songs and swing overlapped with the walking duo.

“Someday you’ll be able to play. Someday you’ll understand,” Mommy said.

Ellie didn’t know what had happened, exactly, but she’d found what she’d been looking for. She wasn’t alone anymore. Under the burning sun, wrapped in the warmth of Mommy’s arms and retreating from the discovery, Ellie smiled.

The End

For more writing from Jill N Davies check back.

The next Flash Friday Fiction blog post will be 5/8/2020

Due North, Book 1 of the Kara Mason story is available for preorder on amazon.com! Get your copy today

Sign up for updates from Jill N Davies