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proper lunch in Kyoto.”
    “Let’s wait.”
    “But you’re hungry. I could get something for you.”
    “No, I’m okay.”
    Ian massaged his brow, aware that Mattie was upset about something but not knowing what. He could ask her, of course, but knew that she probably wouldn’t tell him. Some pains she kept to herself, just as he did. “Do you want to open the notes, Mattie?” he asked, nodding. “Do you want to have a gander at what your mum wrote to us?”
    “But I thought you wanted to wait until we got to Kyoto.”
    “Ah, I’ve waited too bloody long as it is,” he replied, thinking about how Kate had asked him to open their canisters when they arrived in each country. “I’ve been mucking around, afraid of what I might read. But I reckon it’s time for me to stop being a dimwit.”
    “You can be a dimwit, Daddy.”
    “Too right.”
    “You really want to open them?”
    Ian reached into his pocket and removed two black film canisters. Both had “Japan” written on them in gold-colored permanent marker. One carried his name, the other Mattie’s. “Here you go, luv,” Ian said, handing Mattie her canister.
    “Maybe you should read yours first.”
    “No worries, Roo. You go ahead. I’ll wait.”
    Mattie nodded. Her fingers, darkened from the colored pencils, pulled the gray top off her canister. Inside was a narrow but long piece of paper that had been rolled up like a little scroll. Mattie studied the paper, her heart thumping faster. She didn’t know what she hoped her mother would say, or even if it were possible for her mother to say anything that would make her feel better. Her colored fingers trembling, she unrolled the paper and squinted at the small, elegant words.
My Lovely Little Lady,
If you’re reading this note, then I know you’ve gone on our trip, the trip that we were planning before I got sick. I’m so proud of you for going, Mattie. I know that it won’t be easy. I haven’t walked the road that you are walking, but I can imagine how it might be.
Now, as I lay here, I am imagining your sketches, your freckles, the way you can laugh as if everyone in the world were tickling you. I imagine everything about you. And when I think of you, I think of goodness, of a girl who makes me smile, both as a mother and as a fellow human being. I don’t believe I’ve met anyone, Mattie, who has your heart. You’re so young, yet you already know how to share your compassion, how to share yourself. You’re far beyond your years when it comes to sharing, to so many things.
I love you so much. I loved you from the moment I felt you growing inside me—a miracle that I held in my belly and then in my hands. I’ve always loved you, and I always will. Some things might have been stolen from me, but my love for you is not one of those. It is without end.
Would you do something for me, Mattie? There is a trail behind the apartment in Kyoto where your daddy and I lived. This trail was created by monks two thousand years ago. It’s beautiful and spiritual. We walked it almost every day we lived in Japan. I still walk it in my mind. Will you please take your daddy’s hand and walk it with me? I’ll be right beside you. You won’t see me or hear me, but I’ll be there.
And then, when you reach the top of the mountain and look down on Kyoto, will you do something else for me? The Japanese have an old tradition of writing their wishes on a piece of paper and tying that paper to a tree so that their wishes or prayers might come true. I remember seeing hundreds, maybe thousands, of white notes attached to sacred trees in Kyoto. The Japanese call these “wish trees,” and they are as lovely and powerful as anything you’ll see.
Please write down a wish, and tie it to a tree that overlooks Kyoto. I’ll read your wish and do my best to make it come true. Ask for something fun, for yourself. And maybe also leave a drawing for me to look at. That would be wonderful, Mattie. That would make me so