⏱ ~3 min reading
Ulyana heard the jingling of keys and the rustling of packages in the hallway. It was her mother coming home from work. Ulyana was about to run out with her drawing folder to show her the new cat she had been drawing after lunch, but she stopped at the door.
Mom stood in the hallway, her bag on the floor. Her eyes seemed slightly closed—not sleepy, but quiet. Like after a long, long day. There were raindrops on her shoulders, a thin wrinkle on her forehead that hadn't been there this morning.
Ulyana hid the folder behind her back.
— Mom.
— Hello, swallow.
Mom smiled. But Ulyana saw: the smile didn't reach her eyes. It stopped somewhere - at the corners of her lips.
— Are you tired?
— A little. There was a lot of work.
Ulyana thought. Once, when she herself came home from kindergarten tired, her mother would sit her on her lap, stroke her head, and speak softly, just for her. And the fatigue would leave—as if it were flowing out of her chest.
Ulyana ran up. She wrapped her arms around her mother — as far as she could reach. She leaned her cheek against her mother's sweater. The sweater smelled of rain, the subway, and a little of the perfume that her mother had sprayed on her that morning.
— I'll hug you.
Mom didn't say anything. She put her hands on Ulyana's back. At first lightly. Then more firmly.
They stood like that — Ulyana and her mother — in the hallway, among the scattered keys and packages. They stood for a long time. Without a word.
When Ulyana finally pulled away, she saw that something had changed in her mother's eyes. They had become deeper. It was as if a little light had returned there.
"Mom. Do you want me to read to you?"
"You don't know how to read yet, swallow.".
- I look at the pictures. I'll think of it.
Mom laughed—a real laugh, with her eyes.
— Let me change, and let's go to the sofa.
Ulyana ran to get everything ready. She brought a big book from the shelf — about a hedgehog who got lost in the forest. She brought a small pillow — my mother's favorite, with embroidered daisies. She brought a blanket — soft as a cloud.
When mom sat down, Ulyana sat down next to her and opened a book.
"Once upon a time there was a hedgehog," Ulyana began. "And one day he went into the forest to pick mushrooms..."
She was telling stories. Everything she saw in the pictures. Sometimes she got it wrong, sometimes she made up something completely new. Mom listened. Her head tilted a little to the side. Her eyes were closed.
Ulyana saw that her mother was falling asleep. She fell silent. She put the book on her lap. She pulled the blanket up to her chin with her mother's hand. She herself sat down next to her, her cheek against her mother's shoulder.
Soft evening light shone through the window. The clock ticked quietly in the kitchen. Mom breathed evenly—deeply, as only someone who was truly resting could breathe.
When Dad came an hour later, he found the two of them on the couch. Ulyana wasn't asleep - she was lying there, looking at the ceiling and smiling a little.
"Dad," she whispered. "Mom was very tired." I hugged her.
Dad squatted down. He stroked Ulyana's head.
— You're a good boy, daughter.
— And I also told her a story. In my opinion.
Dad laughed softly.
Then, carefully — so as not to wake her — he brought a blanket. He covered her. He took Ulyana in his arms and carried her to the kitchen to have dinner.
On the way, Ulyana whispered:
— Dad, the hug is strong, right?
— Strongest of all, swallow.
💡 Hugs cure the greatest fatigue.