A single rose

Some memories are stronger than others.

Her footsteps echoed as she walked along the empty corridors. She peered into the stained glass window, and in the faint glow of a night lamp, she discerned the altar, almost unchanged, just the way she had remembered it. The entire place was deserted, fallen leaves lay thick on the stairs as she stepped out into the dark night. Hannah pulled her jacket closer, hugging herself as the cold bit her. She walked towards the grotto, where a few candles still burnt, probably left by a passerby stopping by after a late shift of work. The moon barely a sliver peered down through the grey clouds, her footsteps were sure as she made her way across the cobblestone paved churchyard, darkened by looming shadows.

A perfunctory prayer hovered over her lips silently as she stood in front of Our Lady, not failing to be struck by the depth in that beautiful face that had her captivated from childhood. But, this was not why she had come here today. Her heart beat quickened as she made her way towards the cemetery. Every sound, the twigs cracking under her shoes, chirping of nightly insects, and the faraway howling of a dog, magnified by the silence of the night, made her nervous. Finally she stood in front of a grave, with a simple headstone. She laid down a single rose on the cold marble. Biting her lip, she held back her tears.

Suddenly the cry of a baby pierced everything else. Hannah woke up with a start, morning sun was filtering gently through the curtains, and her husband was still peacefully asleep, oblivious to John’s cries. As she took the little bundle to her bosom, she tried to shake away her dream, one which recurred every now and then. Losing Tommy had been the hardest thing she had had to overcome in her 28 years. Even after 5 years, a loving husband, and the baby, some stubborn memories refused to fade. As John slipped back into sleep, she gathered her hair into a quick knot and woke up to go about her morning chores like any other day.