Tessie D

It was a year ago to the day that I lost Baby. I haven’t spoken her name out loud in so long. I’m not sure if I even know how to make the sound.

I try not to think about her, but the thought of her sneaks up on me when I least expect it. I remember where I was a year ago. What I was doing. I remember my baby and the early nights when she slept on my chest. I remember the feel of her warm breath on my neck when she’d finally drift off.

An anchor drops inside of me, and I’m pinned to the chair. Moments from panic. From running out of the office, getting in the car, and driving away from here, as far as I can go until I run out of gas. Or off a cliff. 

I had a baby. And, she died.

And, I’m here now while she’s scattered into the wind, as if she never existed. Except in my memory.