A Short Story : A Story Of A Child's Story

Decent Essays

“I don’t think she knows her name.” I eyed my daughter. She was crawling along the kitchen floor, and was undoubtedly scouting the kitchen for something small and chokable to put in her month as she was prone to doing these days. She reached out a hand, extending her pudgy fingers towards the family dog’s tail. “Rilee!” I yelled, scrambling before she got a hold of the elderly dog, but she didn’t acknowledge my call. “No, doggie for you.” I scooped the 14-month-old into my arms after prying her fingers from the poor dog’s fur. I plopped her into her highchair and grabbed her dinner. “She knows her name! Don’t you Rilee?” My mom crooned. She looked at Rilee and gave her a smile. She called out her name several times. With each “Rilee,” her voice pitched to a different octave and volume, and finally Rilee looked at her. “See! She knows it!” I didn’t answer. It had seemed like she had responded only because of the ongoing noise and the silly voice she had used, but I kept my lips sealed. “She definitely knows her name.” This time, when she said it, she looked at me reassuringly. I nodded my head. After all, she did raise nine children herself, but I still couldn’t shake the feelings of doubt. This scene plays in my head in an endless loop. The darkness of my bedroom is cut only by the light from my phone as I read endless articles. The words are pounded into my head as I Not responding to one’s name, little to no eye contact, no shared enjoyment, no pointing,

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