This is the 4th Prayer Flag project I’ve joined in with.
Four years since I last ruffled her hair,smelt her newborn skin,felt her warm breath against my cheek.
This year I decided I wouldn’t sew,or write on the fabric,but simply place her name and some butterflies.
The pieces of fabric this year is uniform themed,so not to permanently mark them, as they’ll be placed inside her memory box.
She doesn’t of course physically have these memories, but it’s the only way we can do something for her.
It’ll be an odd concept to anyone lucky enough never to go through this to understand.
But to us as her parents,buying a touch of uniform “helps”.
This year, next month on 5th September, we should have been walking our most likely eager 4year old through the wooden gate, across the playground,up the steps to what should have been the start of her school journey.
The photographs in her jumper,shirt and tie, (although ties aren’t compulsory until year three, she’d have still worn one). I’m not sure if she’d have worn trousers, a skirt or pinafore. Her shiny patent Clarks.
Her feet were never measured.
She’ll never fight to put her uniform on,or sulk because mummy wants to put pig tails,but she wanted ” Elsa” hair.
Would she have been wearing glasses? Would they have magnified, how beautiful the colour could have been?
Still,not knowing her eye colour bothers me.
Even the tiny things like which lunch box she would have had,colour of drink bottle?
Are huge things when you know they should have been done. But aren’t.
This year’s Day of Hope Brings a pinch,that I was expecting.
This year our baby girl is missing a huge milestone, this year is more obvious that she isn’t here.
Missing uniform, missing shoes,a missing argument,even a missing baton on the shelf.