"Tell me about that day, how it started out," she said, as they drove back to the house.
"Carl and I wanted to go fishing, but you had packed a picnic lunch. So, you agreed to swim and draw for one hour and, if we were not back on time, you were going to feed our sandwiches to the dog."
She grinned. "It sounds like I was kind of bossy."
"You were!" He laughed. "But we didn't really mind... not too much! I was an only child, and you two were sort of like the siblings I didn't have."
"So we were close back then. There's still so much I don't remember. Tell me everything."
"Okay, the fish weren't biting, so we were back in about half an hour but... you were gone. The picnic things were there... but..." He paused and took a deep breath. "There was no sign of you anywhere and no answer when we called your name. I wondered if you had returned to the house for something that you'd forgotten, but Carl said that you checked everything so many times that it just wasn't possible."
"Oh dear, was I a nuisance?"
He laughed. "Sometimes, but that day, we thought you were just hiding. We searched everywhere that either of us had hidden when playing hide-and-seek, with no luck. We called your name over and over. Then we shouted that you'd found the best hiding place, but it was time to come out." He took a deep breath. "When you still didn't answer, we knew something was wrong, and we ran back to the house in a panic."
Both hands gripped the wheel tightly, as he continued, "The next week was a chaotic blur. Carl didn't want to be alone so I stayed over. We watched as they searched the river and surrounding area. Each day the search area expanded wider, and each day brought a deeper sense of grief."
"That means a lot to me. It's like a verification of my early existence, a sense of really belonging." A moment of silence followed, and then she asked, "What was I like as a child? What did I like to do?"
"You liked to be outside, observing nature. You would spend hours watching birds, butterflies, and especially ladybugs. But, more than anything else, you loved to draw, colour, and paint."
"I still do."
He laughed. "You once painted a fish jumping out of the water. You said it was jumping for joy because we didn't catch it. Then you printed your name in the corner and gave it to me."
"Really?" She frowned. "I must have thought my work was good."
"I still have it," he said quietly. "After - that day - I framed it, and it's still hanging on my bedroom wall."
"I'm honoured... and quite pleased that something from my childhood efforts still exists."
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