The Life We Once Knew

A Birthday and An Anniversary

I've never liked my birthday, to me it was more like a reminder of how close I was to death rather than a celebration of living another year. This year especially should be considered a celebration of survival, but I saw it as the most depressing day of the year. It was my birthday, yes, but it was also the anniversary.

On my twenty-fourth birthday I was more depressed than ever. It was the one year anniversary of Molly Mackenzie's death and the saddest day of my life. That morning; I couldn't find the motivation to get out of bed, let alone face the world.

Every day, I missed Molly. There was an ache in my heart that would never go away so long as I lived. On those days, when another year was put between me and the last time I saw her, the pain seemed to increase. Morphine couldn't help me with that pain, though I was tempted to take it anyways. When you're depressed, death doesn't seem like such a bad option anymore.

Vera was the one who managed to get me out of bed. She started wailing, filling the flat with her tearful cries. For a while, I let her, even her cries couldn't make me find the energy to get out of bed. Until she started sobbing, "Mummy!"

That got me out of bed. Slowly, I sat up. Shoving my feet into slippers, I shuffled down the hall to Vera's room. She was standing in her crib with a face redder than a crisp apple and as wet as the ocean. When she saw me, she calmed down, but only slightly. I flipped on the light and picked her up.

"Come on, Junior, it's alright," I offered a weak smile, "I'm here, it's alright."

It took half an hour to calm her down. When she was finally calm enough to speak, she said, "Hungry."

"Course, it's mornin' after all."

The two of us went downstairs and I set her on the couch. As I moved to the kitchen, I did my best to ignore how empty the flat was. It was such a large flat and only two of us. Deep down, I wished I hadn't have moved from the old flat, but I knew it was for the better. This flat may be empty, but it was a different sort of empty. Molly had lived in the other flat with me. Every morning I woke up there, the loneliness of the place was overwhelming. At least this flat didn't still smell of strawberries and spearmint. 

"Here you go, junior, eat up," I handed her the bowl.

She took it and began to eat the oatmeal. I always thought it looked disgusting, but she thought it was delicious. It wasn't too difficult for her to swallow and it filled her up until lunchtime.

I sat next to her and slowly ate my toast. At the time, that's all I could stomach. All I wanted was to go back upstairs and curl under the covers, pretending the world doesn't exist for a little while. When you have a toddler to take care of, laying in bed all day just wasn't an option anymore. 

"Mummy," Vera still had a bit of oatmeal in her mouth, "Why're you sad?"

I gently lifted her chin to where she would close her mouth, "Don't talk with food in your mouth, Junior."

She nodded and spooned another bite into her mouth. I glanced at the pictures on the wall, my eyes landing on one of Revolution in 1963, a sad smile crossed my lips, "Just-do you remember your Mummy?"

"You!" she pointed her spoon at me, giggling.

"Yes, but I mean you're other Mum," I replied, "You had three."

Vera gasped, "I do?!"

"Yes, you lucky little girl," I poked her stomach making her laugh, "You have me, but do you remember your other mummy?"

Vera shook her head. I smiled, "I figured you didn't. Well, your other two Mummy's loved you more than I can explain. They were sisters."

"They were?"