Spring is your favorite season. Where plants and flowers begin to grow again. Where little kids like to play outside and excitedly chit-chatting about what they should do after the school ends.

I quickly glanced at you when you poked my left arm. And there, you handed me a flower pot.

In the middle is one zinnia flower in a vibrant red color, with green leaves supporting its pretty stance.

You and I were friends for a lifetime.

And I do,

I do like you for heaven knows how long... Maybe more than the word "like".

I wondered what the flower was for.

"To remember me," you said under your breath.

I didn't accept it.

I know what you're trying to do. Even without these flowers, I will remember you. I will not forget about you.

But you still insisted.

Then I just found myself heading back home with this flower pot in my hands.

You always do this, giving me things that are supposed to remember you.

And I hate it.

Weeks passed. I always visit you in the white building every other day. The building we both hate, from the lights in the hallways to the smell we can't forget.

I headed back home after my practice, just what I always do before I visit you again.

There, I saw the flower you gave me.

It's starting to wither.

What's happening? It's spring. I gave my best to keep it alive and to have its best time under the warm sun.

"Mom!" I shouted as I felt my throat closing up.

"Mom! The flower! It's dying!" Tears welled up in my eyes and streamed down my cheeks.

You said, you gave me this to remember you.

This is not how I wanted to remember you.