She pulled out of her bag a print-out of the missing person poster I created when she disappeared this last time. It was printed from the blog I started and had the date I posted it — three years ago. Three years of wondering, worrying, being held in suspense came flooding back.
“I’m not missing,” she said to me, jokingly.
“No, but then I couldn’t find you. I was so worried.”
“I wasn’t missing to me.”