My memories are fleeting. One of two little girls in swim suits running giggling through sprinklers, another, of two little girls playing dress ups.
The closest I ever really came to having a sister.
It was reading Caroline Overington's powerful book "I came to say good-bye" that sparked the recollection.
A brief time, during the halcyon days of my childhood before it was marred by our own tragedy. For a period of time my parents fostered a little girl.
It was an emergency situation. The little girl's regular foster carer wasn't available and the social worker was desperate to find her a temporary home. Neither of her parents could care for her, both of them inconveniently being sentenced to jail at the same time. Previously, they'd both managed to stagger their jail time. Regardless, Keenie spent much of her time in care.
And so, she came to us.
A frightened, almost mute little girl who my father was warned not to attempt to hug. The legacy of her abuse meant that she was terrified of men.
Within days she joined in the rough and tumble of play with me and my brothers.
We laughed and giggled and played endlessly together.
And for weeks, every night my father would tuck all of us into bed and cuddle us, with the exception of Keenie. He would wave or wish her a warm "good night!"
Until the day when having embraced us all, he turned to leave the room only to be asked by Keenie: "Where's my hug?"
It was, he said, like winning the lottery. Only better.
My parents would have adopted Keenie. Like us, they loved her.
But the system doesn't work that way.
The regular foster carer returned.
The parents, or one of them anyway, was released from jail.
Keenie was forced to leave us.
Weeks later when my parents saw her they greeted her lovingly.
She turned away.
My parents never fostered again after that. They had loved too much and even now the pain of that parting is evident. It takes an incredibly special person to do it.
All these years later I wonder what happened to Keenie and her family.
I told my parents I hoped the love they'd shown her during the time she lived with us helped sustain her. They didn't seem persuaded.
Sadly, neither was I.