Many factors could influence memory, and one of them was emotion. I didn't have much memory of kindergarten, more or less only a few were important enough to stay inside my brain, including this particular evening.

I remembered being upset by something I had just learnt in school. A supposedly fun activity of garden project turned unpleasant to me when I started asking my teacher about plants.

An awkward silence accompanied the walk back home with my mother. I wanted to throw a fit, but at the same time, I didn't want to upset her, so I was conflicted by the situation. As we reached the front door of my house, my stubborn feet finally resolved to stop moving.

Crouching to level my height, my mother began, "What's wrong, honey?"

"Mommy, babies don't grow in the ground," I let out. It was the exact thing my teacher had told me. And for the first time in my life, I felt deceived by my mother.

Her expression was shocked at first, but her smile veiled it straight off. She combed my curly locks with her fingers as she looked intently at me. "Do you want ice cream honey?" she cooed.

The offer for ice cream didn't entice five-year-old me. Pouting, I pointed to my backyard through the door; where I had been running every morning with my watering can, where I had counted every leaf sprouting out of the ground, on the spot I planted the 'baby'. With trembling lips, I let out, "You said the thing, is a baby."

"He is a baby, honey. Don't cry" -she pulled me to her and hugged me- "this is complicated for you to understand now. I promise you will, over time." Her tender voice threaded each word and succeeded to make it sound convincing.

She stroked the back of my head gently, "He is the same as you. He is growing, and he needs care, just like I care for you."

Sniffling and sobbing in between, I sank my face on her shoulder. I felt her securing her hold on me before she lifted me and carried me somewhere.

When my feet touched the ground once more, I raised my head. We were at the side of the patch where I'd planted the baby. The growing leaves were rich in violet, magnificent for the eyes to see.

"He is down there. Do you believe me, honey?"

I nodded, kneeled, then placed both my hands on the ground. There was a shade of nervous in my mother's face, but her eyes crinkled as she watched me.

"I'll call he Alfie," I told her, grinning as I said it.

"Him, honey," she corrected.

I'd never learnt how to pronounce what Alfie was, so everything was what my mother had taught me.

"Him... Alfie," I repeated after her. "Is he special, mommy?" My smile brightened as I questioned her more.

"Very special. Like you," she answered, cupping my face to nuzzle our nose together.

Feeling a sudden yet familiar touch on my shoulder brought me back to the present. When I looked up, it was my mother. She crouched down and started caressing my back.

"Honey," she began.

My lips quivered, making words hard to convey. I let tears spoke instead.

A gentle pull from her made me rise to a sitting. Yet I continued to face Alfie's patch and raked my fingers on the dirt, unwilling to part with him.

"You won't be any good if you get sick," she coaxed. "Come, let's get you dry up." She tugged on me, but I refused to move.

I turned to face her. "Ma, is he dying?"

She was smiling to hide her worry, but I could see right through her. Shaking her head, she pulled me in and embraced me, disregarding my stained clothes.

"No, he is strong like you, remember? He's a part of you. He could feel you" -she placed a palm on my chest- "and you can feel him."

Regardless still puzzled about her countless mentioned of the bond between Alfie and me, I couldn't deny the truth on the matter.

Another memory of my childhood entered my mind. 2345 was the last year winter appeared. Its harsh depart was forever remembered and missed by some.

A sudden pain in my chest jolted me from sleep. My mother, who was sleeping next to me, stirred. "What's wrong, honey?" she asked while rubbing her eyes. Worry seeped into her face. "Did you have a nightmare?"

I shook my head in confusion, trying to recall if there was a dream. After some time, I still had none. But my heart continued to pound hard as if I was on a continues run.

Engulfing me in her arms, my mother spoke again, "Maybe it's the cold."

Despite feeling the warmth from the hug, my unease refused to dissolve. "Mommy, let's check on Alfie," I suggested, although uncertain why I suddenly thought of him.

Nodding, my mother got out of bed and grabbed our coats from the hanger. She made haste, and I tailed her close behind. When the door to our backyard opened, the flurry outside stormed in, slapping my face with the cold breeze.

My mother raised a hand to stop me from following her. "Honey, stay here," she instructed calmly.

At the time, she was blocking my view, and I couldn't see Alfie's patch. But when my eyes caught sight of what was happening, my little feet moved on their own. I ran to the outside in frantic.

The blizzard had damaged his small shed. The snow had covered the ground where his tiny leaves were sprouting. But what I couldn't see was what alarmed me the most; the feeling of his pain.

"Alfie!" I screamed.

I fell to the icy ground a couple of times in my attempt to reach him. But I got up again, running through the snow as fast as my little feet could.

Hearing my voice, my mother turned around. "No, stay inside. It's dangerous!" She yelled, hurrying to my side.

But I was hysterical. I dodged her and rushed to my goal, disregarding the danger. The second I reached Alfie's patch, I plunged to the ground, swiping the snow with my bare hands. I repelled when my mother tried to pick me up.

"No mummy. Help him... Help him!" I pleaded. Tears streamed down my eyes.

To be continued...