Theirs is a story often heard yet rarely talked about outside of immediate family. It is one of the many secrets handed around behind closed doors; a sad little thing that is collected with other sad things.

For all who heard the story the child died nameless, stillborn. Only her sex was known. Even the father believed this, but only because the mother never told him. On some unknown day when the little girl was just a kicking promise the womb, her mother whispered her name. Elinore.

For that moment of dreaming love Elinores mother paid dearly. She cried for her in the quiet moments between tooth brushes, lacing sneakers, and alone in parked cars. Her poor father cried for his wife who had become so far from what he could understand.

Some of those who know their story can’t comprehend how someone could be so affected by the stillbirth of a child, seeing as how the child was never born. Instead their condolences lie with the father who could not suffer the same as his wife and for that suffered a fate they deemed far worse. But they did not know little Elinore, dreamed for her, or still do.