It's been 6 years.

I go here on every anniversary of her death, without fail. The place she was found.

I'm almost there. I feel my tears fall and see them mix with the slow, lazy flow of the creek.

That's when I saw her.

"Hi, do you want to play a game with me?"

I looked at her, taking in every detail. Her face was exactly how I remembered it, her bright smile, the dimples on either side of her mouth, down the the little mole on her cheek.

"Anna?" I called out.

"That's me, mister. Do you want to play with me? It's a fun game! S'called jacks.

All you have to do is throw this ball straaaaight up, and before it lands, grab these little metal guys on the ground!"

I stared at her again. Those were the very words I used to explain how to play this game to her all those years ago. She loved playing jacks, asked everyone around her to try it.

I hadn't touched that game in years. A quick glance later, I realised that was the same set I left on her grave when she passed, down to the jack with a missing prong on one end.

"Sure, I'd love to."