David’s memory was put up in the living room. After the birth of the triplets, he was moved into their dad’s study. As the children grew, he was relegated to the cupboard deep inside. He heard the kids coo, crawl, walk and then speak their first words. David wanted to see his sisters and brother play. He wished to hear his mother’s voice. No one had said his name for the past 3 years. Though he wanted it to be this way, he still felt a sense of loss. Had he survived, he would have been 5 years old.
It was cloudy when Macie returned home. She had been little more than a machine for the past 2 years. Her husband sighed, reaching out to take her hat and coat. All of a sudden, a fierce gust of wind shook their living room. The wind blew through his study, scattering his papers and bringing down a doll, which he had hidden from her. He did not hear the doll fall, but Macie did. She rushed over and picked it up, her eyes watering. She looked at his stunned face and sobbed for the first time in 2 years.