I sort through the mail as water begins to run through the pipes in the wall, on its way to the upstairs bathroom. There’s some junk mail for Nicole. It’s irritating to get the odd mailer from a magazine or credit card company addressed to her. It’s an unwelcome reminder that she’s gone.

The water shuts off and a moment later, I hear a rhythmic thumping coming from her room.

“Caitlyn?”

I climb the stairs and find her jumping on her bed.

“Hey! Knock it off! We talked about this,” I admonish, but not too harshly.

“You said I could do anything I wanted tonight,” she says, in between leaps.

“Except break the bed, young lady.”

She lands with a giggle in a sitting position.

“So, ‘anything I want’ doesn’t mean ‘anything I want’?” she asks.

Great. She’s beginning to grasp the concept of technicalities.

“Fine. One more thing, but I have to approve it, and then you have to go to sleep.”

She scrunches up her face in thought and it’s like a lightbulb turns on over her head.

“I want to play hide-and-seek like at Sarah’s birthday party!” she proclaims.

I nod. “All right.”

She flies from the bed and down the stairs.

“Just one round,” I say, following her. “Then you have to go to bed.”

She stops in the middle of the living room and gives me a thumbs-up.

“Do you want to turn the lights off like at Sarah’s party?” I ask.

She hesitates and grows worried.

“It’s okay,” I say. “We can leave the lights on.”

She frowns. “Then it’ll be too bright.”

The evening is suddenly in danger of ending on a downer.

“I’ve got it!” I proclaim and head towards the kitchen.

There’s a bag of tea candles in the pantry that Nicole and I purchased forever ago at IKEA. I bring them into the living room and hold them up. Caitlyn approves. We spend the next twenty minutes or so placing lit candles in every room, hallway, and even on the stairs. The only room we ignore is the basement. Then, we turn off the lights.

The effect is breathtaking. This is the lighting the house was built for. Every room is filled with a soft, flickering glow and dancing shadows.

“All right,” I say, once we return to the living room. “You want to hide first, or should I?”

“I want to hide first.”

“Okay. I’m going to go into the bathroom and count to fifty. You better hide good.”

She eagerly nods, but stands rooted to the spot, not wanting to give away the direction she’s going to run.

“Here I go.” I slowly begin stepping backwards towards the bathroom. “One … two …”

“Dad! You can’t start counting until you’re in the bathroom!”

“Three …”

“Dad!”

I finally back into the bathroom and slowly close the door as I continue loudly counting. “Four …”