My memory is still fragmented, and there are moments I am unsure if I remember an actual event or a dream, but I do remember life as a child in the beautiful Valley of Tolborolla. It was then, as it is now, a place of peace and serenity.

There are a few memories of my childhood that stand out. One of my fondest was playing with another Furrikin. I smile when I remember how silly and playful he was. He was the perfect playmate, even if he did look and smell like a skunk.

I remember one day, we had planned to meet in the meadow. There were so many wildflowers; it was the perfect place to play, lay in the sun, and dream as we looked into the sky.

In writing this, another friend, their face flickered across my vision, and she looked like me but much younger. Long ears, fluffy tail. She looks so sad.

I remember now.

She had come to visit just as I was about to leave to visit my skunk friend. I was so preoccupied with my plans that I didn't give her my full attention.

How could I not see how sad she was?

How could I not hear the urgency in her voice?

Or did I see and hear and not care that she needed me?

She had lost something. Was it a toy? A pet? Something important.

Her Kite. It was a pretty light blue. My dad would- I mean her dad. He would joke that it would get lost in the sky.

My heart sinks now as I recall my young friend's sadness. Her father had given her that kite, and he had died just a few months prior. The kite was the last gift her father had given her and now it was stuck high in a tree.

I must have shooed her away or told her I'd help her later, and instead of being there for her, I rushed off to play with my skunk friend, not realizing how much my young friend needed my support and comfort that moment. I should have known better, especially given the recent loss of her father.

I feel guilty now; I remember feeling relieved when she left. I was annoyed instead of compassionate. All I could think of was playing in the wildflowers.

When I arrived to play, my skunk friend wasn't there. It was hard scenting with so many flowers nearby, but I could tell he hadn't been there today. I was sure I had not missed him.

I waited in the meadow, watching the clouds pass by, watching Father Sun make his way across the sky, and with every hour, I worried more. I knew something was wrong. Hours passed, and my friend still had yet to show up.

Feeling anxious and restless, I decided to head back home. It was getting late, and I was hungry. As I remember going home, the way home seemed longer than it was. I feel as if I was dreading every step.

When I got home, my mother told me my younger friend, who looked like me, had hurt herself. She had tried to climb a tree to retrieve her kite, but she fell and broke her leg.

I was devastated to hear the news and felt guilty for not being there for her when she needed me. The pain of my friend's injury was compounded by the fact that my skunk friend was nowhere to be found. I didn't know where he had gone or if he was okay.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, but my skunk friend never returned. It was as if he had vanished into thin air, leaving my other friends and me to wonder what had happened to him. I had wondered then if I was being punished for being so thoughtless. The little one would not have been hurt if I had been there for her.

She eventually recovered, and I hoped lived a happy life after, but I'm not sure. I still cannot remember her name. I think even though I have forgotten, and my memories are hazy, I can tell this has shaped me. To this day, I know the importance of being present and attentive to those around me, especially those grieving or needing support.

I deeply wish I could change what happened, that she never had to experience pain because of me, but I cannot. All I can do is honor my young friend's memory by striving to be a better listener and friend to those who need me.