Carry Me Today

An orange evening, on the way home. One more corner, and they'd be there. Niko's feet stopped, just like that. Mama's arms were full of grocery bags. Niko's arms were full of Bun the bunny. Under the orange sky, Niko said, in a small voice, "Mama… um…"

When Niko was little, the whole world fit inside Mama's arms. Festival lights, seen from up in a carry. Rain sounds, heard from up in a carry. And when sleep came, Mama's chest. Tha-thump. Tha-thump. The highest place in the world — and the warmest one, too.

These days, Niko can do so many things alone. Shoes — on, all by myself. Stairs — up, all by myself. "Am I big now? Or still little?" Mama laughs and says, "You're both." And the one who carries Bun is always Niko. Niko carries Bun, and Mama carries Niko — that's how it had always, always been.

But today, Niko's legs are worn out from playing too hard. "Carry m—" and then Niko remembered. The proud words from just yesterday: "I'm BIG now!" Mama set the bags down gently, and crouched. Arms open wide. "Come here?" — What will Niko do?