Yuri lay curled on the cool ground, her tiny body stiff with quiet anger and sadness. She had followed her mommy all morning, lifting her little arms again and again, silently asking to be picked up. But mommy was busy. Each time Yuri reached up, she was gently set back down. At first she protested with soft cries. Then louder ones. Then finally, hurt and tired, she gave up.
She dropped onto the ground with a small thud and turned her face away, cheeks puffed in stubborn frustration. Her little chest rose and fell fast at first, her breaths sharp with tiny sobs she tried to hide. She wanted to be held. She needed to be held. But her mommy never turned back.
Minutes passed. The anger slowly melted into exhaustion. Yuri’s cries grew softer, turning into quiet sniffles. Her eyes stayed open, staring at nothing, waiting for footsteps that never came. The ground felt hard beneath her, but she didn’t move. It was as if she was saying, If you won’t carry me, I’ll just stay right here.
Her eyelids began to droop. Her fists loosened. The fight inside her small body slowly faded. Without realizing it, Yuri slipped into sleep right there on the floor, her tiny face still marked with sadness, her lips trembling even as she rested.
From across the room, mommy finally turned and saw her.
The sight stopped her cold.
Yuri was asleep on the ground, alone, curled into herself like a forgotten toy. Guilt rushed through mommy’s heart. She hurried over at once, kneeling beside her small child. With careful arms, she lifted Yuri from the cold floor into her warm chest.
Yuri didn’t wake. But she sighed in her sleep and relaxed instantly, her tiny body recognizing safety at last.
Even in sleep, she had only wanted one thing.
Her mom.
