"Mama?"

A little seven year old girl stood at the side of the river, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of St. Petersburg in the morning.

"Mama? Where did you go?"

Irina and her mother had been making their way home from the market. A special dinner was planned for that night on the occasion of Irina's seventh birthday. She had felt so grown up when she sat up in bed that morning. Now, standing in the middle of a rush of people, she felt tiny. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her heavy green coat. Her gloves were on the kitchen table where she had neglected to find them in the excitement of the morning. Not long after, a tall man bumped into her, knocking her down. Her arms automatically stretched out to halt her fall, but she could not take them out of her pockets in time. She hit the stone ground hard, bruising her knee and scuffing the tip of her new black shoes.

"Mama, help me!" She cried.

"Irina?" Irina heard a familiar voice through the crowd of strangers.

"Mama! I am here!" Irina's mother quickly pushed her way through the crowd. The expression on her face was one mixed with fear, but mostly masked by relief.

"Irina! My baby, are you okay?" Irina's mother scooped her up off of the ground.

"Yes, Mama. I'm fine. And I'm not a baby! I'm seven today, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Irina's mother swept Irina's short blonde hair out of her eyes and tucked it safely behind the girl's ear. Meanwhile, Irina was a little frightened by the look on her mother's face.

"Mama, are you okay?"

The mother pulled her daughter into her arms in a tight hug.

"Irina, I know this may be hard to understand, but when someone sees somebody they care about in danger, they get scared. They get really, really scared. I hope this never happens to you, but if when you grow up it does, remember me, and know you are not alone. All mothers feel that way."

Irina wiggled her freezing fingers and breathed in the deep, familiar scent of her warm mama. It was always a delicate mess of spices blended with the soap she used. Irina spoke into the folds of her mother's soft brown coat.

"Okay, Mama. I will. I promise."