If Dad wasn’t painting on the front porch, he was working on a piece of furniture in his shed. I could hear faint noises coming from out there, so I knew he was either trying to fix something someone found invaluable or he was trying to invent the next chair. He was quite imaginative when it came to stuff like that, so I know I got my gift of imagination from him.

Either way, I knew he didn’t hear me tell him I was leaving when I yelled from the driveway. Even after I heard him answer, I knew he still had no idea I was leaving. When I climbed into the car and closed the door, I looked back toward the shed. I heard a power saw fire up, and that’s when I knew he was in his own world. Later, he would ask me where I went when I got back. For now, he was fine, and I was off to do my thing.

Driving down that same road felt different somehow. I had driven it a thousand times before. Years ago, Gilmer taught me how to drive on it, and I did a good job for the most part. Maggie didn’t like it too much, but that’s because she didn’t drive. She didn’t like driving, and she wasn’t a fan of my learning how. But after I got my license, she sure did know how to get in the front seat and go with me. She never had a problem doing that.

That’s how I met Dad in the first place. Well, I can’t be too sure because there was a time before that when I saw a man painting on the bank of the river. I’m pretty sure that was him, too. But then, I wondered if I was imagining things.

When we went to a store in town, Maggie bumped into him. We had no idea who this man was. All we knew was that his name was Chris Ferlin, and the store was selling his paintings. Out of the kindness of his own heart, he gave Maggie one. She walked across the street with a huge smile on her face, and she was moving fast. It was like she wanted me to drive away before anyone had the chance to change their mind. That was when I saw him on the sidewalk, and he saw me too. He was looking at me like he knew me, and I had no idea how, but that was the look he was giving me.

These memories kept flooding my brain, and they wouldn’t stop. Why did this way feel so different? It’s so odd to be on a road you were just on yesterday, but this time it feels so old. It’s like missing something, but it’s still a part of your life. It was taking its good old time getting me where I wanted to go, but the drive was a nice change of pace.

That’s when I spotted something peculiar in my rearview mirror. It wasn’t uncommon to see a man riding a horse on these backroads. What was odd was that the man was wearing a costume. He had armor on like a knight, and then suddenly there were two horses. I could tell by the way they were closing the distance that the horses were running full speed.

Just as they got up to me, the knight turned his horse around and started going the other way. It was scary for a moment until I looked back and saw another knight simply sitting on his horse in the middle of the road. There was something familiar about him. He didn’t seem scary at all. I slowed the car down as I came closer to him.

He stared at me for a moment. Then, he saluted and galloped away. When he cut through the grass and headed off into the woods, that’s when I saw the old house. It was sitting there waiting patiently for me.

Pulling into the driveway, the sight of it took me back years. I could see that some paint had chipped. The porch bowed a little. Maybe it had been that way back when I was a child. I just didn’t notice little details like that. All I knew was that the home wasn’t designed to be used gently. It was built to roof a hard line of workers who could fix it if it broke. So, breaking and repairing were part of its charm.

I had always loved how the sun shone through every room. It was a bright world full of warmth and welcome that you felt as soon as you walked through the front door. The smells Maggie fixed years ago still lingered as a cocktail of dust and time was starting to take over. It was like the world had just stopped in its place.

Boards creaked as I walked around the house, the kitchen first and then the dining room, where I used to do my homework. In the living room was the wide picture window where I could sit and stare out for hours at nothing in particular. But the upstairs was calling my name, and I had put it off long enough while reminiscing on the bottom floor.  

Every other step made a sound as the top of the steps whispered my name. I knew exactly where my old bedroom used to be, even though it felt like I was being guided by a chaperon who had yet to show their face. Down the short hall to the left, I found my room just the way I had left it.

It looked smaller than I remembered. I reached up and I could almost touch the ceiling. The dresser only stood as high as my waist, and my bed was so short that my feet would dangle over the edge. What little girl used to sleep here?

The springs squeaked as I sat softly on the mattress. It might have been a small bed, but it was strong. It didn’t need much encouragement to hold me. As I sat listening to the springs settle, with the window just a few feet away, that’s when I saw it. There was a small door in the wall right where it had always been. It had a makeshift knob I made myself from a block of wood and a screw. I wasn’t much on making exquisite repairs as long as they did what I wanted them to do.

On the other side of the door was something special. It was my world away from worlds. The secret I kept, where I kept all my secrets. A smile crept across my face as I thought of the possibilities. Was it the same? Was it the way I remembered it?

I got on my hands and knees to open the door and look inside. Everything was exactly the way I had left it. There was a chest I had used as a small desk. On it was a notebook full of stories I used to make up with a mind so active I never knew what adventure the day was going to bring.

Wiping away the cobwebs and brushing away some dust, I crawled further inside the cubbyhole so I could take a seat and read some of the things a six-year-old girl had imagined. She had climbed the heights of a made-up mountain and dove into the waters of a made-up sea. She had ventured deep into the thickest jungles and made friends with the most ferocious animals anyone could ever meet. She had voyaged with the most unique characters who were from all walks of life. As I read the notebook, I wondered who this person was from another life.

When I took another look around, I found a special gift Maggie had given me one day when I was bored and I couldn’t find anything great to do. It was a book full of advice a father had given his daughter when she felt alone in this world without him. Coloring pictures for small toddlers just learning about crayons to heartwarming whispers for children being put through separation and loss, When You Miss Me felt more like a hug than a book.

There in my old cubbyhole, I stretched out my legs and got comfortable. I had a feeling I was going to be there a while. As I cracked open the book, the words came back to me like they had never left. My heart lit up as I remembered both of them so clearly. He was a simple man with a voice so calm that it could settle the most restless soul, and her spirit was so infectious that she could get you to join her anywhere she wanted to go. I hadn’t quite figured out why I had gone home or what I was supposed to do while I was there. But spending time with Mikayla just felt right to me.

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