Titas was trapped in a bad emotion, heavy and overwhelming. He sat stiffly, eyes dark and distant, refusing to listen to mom’s gentle attempts to comfort him. Her hands reached out slowly, voice soft and patient, but nothing seemed to get through. Every word bounced off the wall he had built inside his small heart.
He wasn’t angry in the loud way. This was deeper. A quiet storm. His lips trembled, but he turned his face away, rejecting comfort not because he didn’t need it, but because he didn’t know how to accept it. Something had upset him earlier—too many feelings, too much confusion—and now he was stuck.
Mom stayed close. She didn’t force a hug. She didn’t raise her voice. She simply stayed, reminding him with her presence that he was not alone. Titas clenched his fists, breathing uneven, body tense. When mom spoke again, he shook his head sharply, signaling “no,” even as his eyes filled with tears.
Minutes passed slowly.
Mom adjusted her approach, sitting beside him instead of facing him. She spoke less. Silence became the comfort. Titas glanced at her once, quickly, then looked away. That single glance carried everything—hurt, frustration, and a quiet plea for understanding.
Eventually, his shoulders dropped. The tension began to melt. His breathing slowed. Without looking, he leaned just slightly toward mom. It was a small movement, but it meant everything. Mom responded carefully, placing a gentle hand near him, not touching yet, waiting for permission.
Titas sniffed, then let out a broken little sound. That was the moment the wall cracked. He turned suddenly and buried his face into her side, emotions spilling out at last. Tears came fast and hard, soaking her clothes, but mom held him firmly now, rocking him with steady warmth.
The bad emotion didn’t disappear instantly, but it softened. Titas finally listened—not to words, but to love. He clung tightly, exhausted, safe. Mom kissed his head, knowing some feelings can’t be fixed, only held.
That day taught her something important: comfort isn’t always about calming. Sometimes it’s about waiting—until a hurting heart is ready to be reached.
