It had been a day unlike any other, and as she feels her way along the dark hallway, she smiles when she reaches her room. Their room. She wasn’t alone. She pauses at the doorway, and she remembers.
She remembered being called Cannon, countless times. Between all the C and K names on that side of the family – Karen, Karie, Keith, Kevin, Carolin, Cassy, Chrissy, and Katie, it was no wonder names got mixed up. Ever since she was small, she had been called Katie Custard. It wasn’t even a derivative of her own name, but it was hers, no less.
Her thoughts jump between the terrible news that morning had brought, and the person that had been around to pick up the pieces. Even if he hadn’t realized that he’d done anything. They had stood in the kitchen for what seemed like forever, but in reality, was probably only a few minutes. Both were holding tight to the other, as if for dear life, but neither were in any danger. Amazing things often happen when two people need each other, and the sweetest things get said.
She snaps herself out of her thoughts, and crawls into bed. Quietly, so as not to wake him. She’s tired, and wants to sleep, but knows that sleep will escape her, at least for a little while longer.
When she was four, she drew a picture of a cat. That picture was kept and taped to a cupboard, and nearly seventeen years later, remained there. The elderly woman kept it until the end of her forever. In a few weeks time, the favour will be returned by the girl, unbeknownst to the woman who is no longer around. It’s a tribute. A reminder. A memory.
As the girl slips off to sleep, she smiles once more. You can’t erase forever.