The coconut trees stand tall and proud amongst the variety of exotic leaves and flora. The beauty that they possess mean so much to me, I hardly think of the unsightly insects that dwell amidst them. Sometimes, I find it hard to believe my luck to be able to stand right in front of them, to be part of this place, to be able to appreciate them. It is a garden in Taiwan, where my mum grew up, where I learned to ride a bike, and had my first rocking horse, where I learned to appreciate the people around me and the true meaning of unconditional love.

It was quite a while back, 4 years ago to be precise. My mum, brother and I were back in Taiwan to visit our relatives there. The weather was cold. Despite this, I felt a strong homey feeling, as if the Taiwan air had its arms around me in a big hug. The warmth I felt was beyond description. Our relatives exclaimed to us how much we had changed- my brother was taller and slimmer whereas I was plumper.

Back at home, our grandfather was waiting for us. The wrinkles at the edge of his small eyes were evidently showing and his lips were parted in a small- managed smile. I have never been big on expressing emotions, so I merely greeted him in Hokkien despite feeling extremely glad to see him.

He looked frail and thin, a plain white shirt hanging loosely from his shoulders and a pair of long black pants. I realised I actually missed him a lot.

The next morning started off like it had always, with me waking up to the familiar sound of roosters announcing daylight and the cool morning breeze. I spent the morning cycling loops around the garden with my brother, brimming with carefree joy. Our grandfather was sitting on his favourite rocking chair by the patio, silently watching. My joy came to an end when my mum hollered at me to climb upstairs to change out of my disgusting sweaty clothes. My brother was left downstairs on his own, in the silent company of my grandfather.

As I tried to change as quickly as I could, there was a loud commotion and I heard my brother shouting loudly for my mother. I finished dressing as fast as I could and rushed down to see what the commotion was all about. I remember the sight that greeted me so clearly. It was unpleasant and heart- wrenching. My mother was helping my grandfather up from the side of his toppled motorbike, at the same time, demanding for what had happened. Grandfather answered, his soft frail voice quivering at some points. He said he had wanted to go to the market to purchase some Taiwan tidbits for my brother and I, in case we got hungry from cycling all day long. My heart fell when I heard his words. He knew he was too weak to be able to ride a motorbike and yet tried to ride it for the sake of us. It involved so much risk!

My mum chided him and told him not to do that ever again. She parked his motorbike, which had been converted into a mess of metal at the back of the garage. I felt so bad. It was my existence that had led his motorbike to this state and it was all too late to change anything. It was this day that taught me the true meaning of unconditional love.