Lost Thirty Years Ago

Deep under the porch, in the dark, something was glowing orange. Haru had found it crawling after a runaway marble. It was the last Sunday of summer vacation, and Mom had been tidying since morning — "Later, okay?" was all she said. Then the town's sunset chime began to play, and the glow swelled brighter. Chirin. From inside the light, a tiny bell rang.

She crawled through — into the same garden. And yet something was different. Mosquito-coil smoke drifted by the porch. A washtub she had never seen hung by the drying pole. And under the persimmon tree, a girl was crying. "The little gold bell I won at the festival… I dropped it somewhere." Haru thumped her own chest. "It's okay. We'll find it, I promise. Finding things is what I do best." High above, the chime was still playing.

They searched the garden together — under the wooden bench, behind the morning-glory pots. A folded paper frog popped out of the girl's pocket. Then a voice called from beyond the fence: "Saki! See you tomorrow!" Saki. That was Mom's name. The girl waved and laughed, and a single dimple appeared on her right cheek. Haru's heart went thump. This girl — she's Mom.

Haru didn't say it. Instead, she took the girl's hand — firm and warm, the way Mom always held hers. "Where did you ring the bell last?" "On the big stone by the well. It went chirin — such a pretty sound." The sunset deepened and deepened. Two long shadows stretched across the garden. Run, run — before the chime comes to its end.

They searched all around the big stone — the roots of the grass, the cracks between rocks. Nothing. Nowhere. And then the last note of the chime melted into the sky. Haru's body went light as air. "Wait — not yet…!" Saki's crying voice grew far away. Haru shouted with everything she had: "I WILL find it! I promise!" When she opened her eyes, she was under the porch. In her hand lay a single marble.

The garden of now was the deep blue of after-sunset. But Haru had realized something: the things from the garden of long ago are still here, thirty years on. Use your own eyes — find three of them, and tap each one. Together they make a map to where the bell must be. …Yes — that big stone. The place where Saki rang her bell one last time. Haru knelt at its foot and began to dig.

Out of the earth came a little bell. Its gold had turned green with the years — but chirin. It still rang true. On the porch, Haru held it out. Mom's hand stopped still. "…My festival bell. That day, a girl I'd never met searched with me. 'I will find it,' she promised." Mom asked nothing at all. She only pulled Haru into a long, tight hug.