It’s been so hard since I lost my little girl. When people would say things like “there’s not a day that goes by without me thinking of X person I lost”, I’d imagine how that could be possible, before. When life is filled with so many noises: the washing, stocking the house with food, keeping everything clean, going to work, excelling at work, getting your child to school on time. And everything in between. How does anyone have room for missing someone, daily? I was lighter, before.

Last month we moved house, a fresh start. They’ve been in the loft since it happened, your things. I bought pink perpex boxes because I couldn’t bare the thought of your memory being contained in something inauthentically you. The only thing I’d kept with me, tucked under our bed on my side, was your silver trainers. Rainbow laces, bright yellow stripes down the sides. They had been the iconic trainers at your school, and you’d wanted nothing more than a pair for your birthday. I wonder whether kids would still find these cool on the playground, all these years later. Time and trends, they move with such fragility. Sometimes I’d lay in bed, thinking of you. I’d reach under the bed and run the laces between my fingers, imagining it was your beautiful golden hair. They had started to fray, and it had become harder to imagine. My husband tried to console me, when we realised they hadn’t made it to the new house. I’d ripped through every box, contacted the buyers of our old house, the removal company. No stone was left unturned, but they’d gone. I felt it was a sign from the universe, to embrace closure and our new life by the coast.

This morning I woke up, determined to make the most of the early April sunshine. Our new area is idyllic. It’s over 100 miles from where we’ve lived for a decade, and neither of us realised just how much we needed a new chapter until we found ourselves here. You can’t quite hear the sea from cottage, but a few minutes walk and it’s there. After slipping into our little town to pick up a white Americano from Bailey’s Deli, I decided the explore some of the more residential parts of town. I headed into the larger housing estate, with the mid 2010 style new build houses nestled tightly together. Our house was like this, before. We wanted practical, efficient, family friendly. With each uniform house I passed, I couldn’t help the occasional glance into the front bay windows. Little ones getting ready for whatever their Sunday has in store, the bustle of the morning routine with cartoons on in the background.

I could hear the orchestra of the local playground before I saw it. The high pitched squeals accompanied by the lower pitch tantrums. The murmuring of parents congregated at the sidelines whilst their toddlers bound down the slides in their splash suits. Surrounding the gated playground was a small bandstand, with adjoining benches. I perched, taking in the scene that felt like a pair of old slippers. When it first happened, I saw her everywhere. She lined up outside the school gate, she passed me on my commute to work, she even climbed trees outside our house and peered in. Her face felt so clear, before. It was easy to envisage her as still part of our lives. Not so much these days, but occasionally, like today, glimpses will come back. A little girl is enjoying the swing, peacefully swinging her legs back and forth to get higher and higher. She’s leaning into the air, fearlessly, in her pursuit of the wind running through her bunches. She launches herself off the swing, jumping down and landing firmly on both feet, and bends over. She’s noticed her shoelace is untied. I can’t help thinking, how well someone’s taught her to tie her shoelaces, as she follows the “bunny round the garden” method we taught our daughter. As she wraps the lace around her index finger, I zone in. Those laces, and they’re frayed. The silver trainers, the yellow stripes. I wait for her to stand back up, so I can observe her face. I’m standing now, my coffee fell to the floor at some point. I don’t know when. She lifts her head, she looks across the playground and I can see her features as if photoshop has removed everyone else around us. She’s here, it’s her, wearing tje shoes.