An Empty Embrace

When I was barely 4, my mother got me a goldfish; perhaps to compensate for the loneliness she recognized I had befriended. But, unfortunately, the goldfish and I did not make good companions. Not because I had a particular dislike towards it, but because I was scared of this strange new living thing that had suddenly taken up the space on my table top. It did not stay for long. I do not remember what happened to it. 

What I do remember is that I knew at such a tender age that nothing made up for my mother's absence.