When I was young, bedtime was always my favourite part of the day. Wearing soft pajamas and with Tom, my stuffed monkey, in my arms, I felt no pressure at all.

I named Tom after my uncle when I compared Tom’s long arms and legs to his. One night I ran up to Uncle Tom at a family party and told him I had named my monkey after him. His eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, then a chuckle (咯咯笑) escaped his lips. I guessed he didn’t understand how important it was to me.

Even if Uncle Tom didn’t think my monkey was special, I certainly did. I dressed him in a white baby nightgown. My mother thought that Tom was the hest-dressed stuffed animal in the world. Yes, he was certainly a fashionable creature. The strong cologne (科隆香水) I used on him years ago made him still smell "pretty".

For a long time, Tom went everywhere with me. He was my best friend, and I told him everything. But when I turned twelve, I realized I was too old for stuffed animals. I thought people would think I was babyish, so I put him in the cupboard with the rest of my teddy bears and dolls. I begged him to understand why I was doing this, but at the same time I longed to talk to him again.

It took me several years to realize that it was OK to miss Tom. I know now that maturity (熟) doesn’t only mean growing up and taking on more responsibility. It also means holding on to your childhood and acting young sometimes.