White Moth

Recently, my friend said something about remembering something you had forgot all of a sudden. Like a memory or something. Then, it happened to me. I was outside, watering my mother's plants and I stepped on a large moth, one of those moths that are like the size of the palm of your hand and are decorated in brown and black lines. I didnt realize I was standing on the poor moth until I took a step back and she came flying out from under my foot and then died. I almost cried, I felt completely awful, I know, it was just a moth, but I felt like a horrible person. In the midst of me feeling sad over the poor ugly thing, a memory popped up in my head, I know this doesnt really affect any of your lives but I felt like I needed to share it.
When I was eight, in an attempt to give my brother some manly influence, my mother sent my brother and me to my Uncle's house for a week. My uncle has three sons who are very hyper and adventurous. One night, while I was there a white moth flew into the house and got stuck in the overhead light in the kitchen. My cousin, Cody, knocked it down and it couldnt fly anymore, it kind of just limped around. I felt bad for it, so I went and got a paper plate and a couple of sugar cubes. I put the moth on a paper plate and I put a little drip of water on the plate with it and I placed a couple of sugar cubes around it. The little moth moved around every now and then and it seemed to be recovering, I had hope. I watched her all night, I gaurded her from my cousins, uncle and brother. Then the next morning, when I woke up, I ran into the kitchen to see if the moth was all better. The plate was gone and there was no trace of my little white moth.
My aunt came in while I was frantically searching for my moth and she asked me what I was doing. Then I told her and she said, "When I came home from work last night, there was a dead white mouse on the table on a plate, so I threw the plate away."
I was completely heart-broken. I have never liked that aunt ever again, even though that was a long time ago. It was the first time, I had believed in something and had it crushed. I cried for hours about my little white moth. It's a weird memory, I know, but for some reason since I killed that brown moth, I havent been able to get my little white one out of my head.