A game that Miru likes is our own version of hide-and-seek. I carry her on my back and pretend to be looking for her. Calling her softly then louder, bending over and looking around corners, in portico’s and behind trees. I continue and wonder what she would think. Does she realize it is a game? Does it appear to her, in a strange way, that we are looking for her together, as I am carrying her tightly on my back and she follows exactly my movements? Or does she find my pretended silliness entertaining?
At some point, she begins to move around wildly with her arms to announce her presence to me. I’m right here, of course, we have found me.
Should she at any point later in her life go “looking for herself” – when that is still as fashionable an activity as in 2015 – I will tell her this little anecdote. I imagine her, around twenty years old, walking a hiker’s trail that winds through a mountainous landscape of staggering beauty. Alone, or with a friend. I’m going to risk sounding very, very cheesy in the next sentence. In a way, I would always be traveling with her in every backpack she puts on, as a memory of our hide-and-seek game.