Every day, a 10-year-old girl would sleep on a seat in the park for fifteen minutes. One day, I couldn’t take it any more and decided to find out why she did this.
I frequently eat lunch at the café across the street from the workplace; it’s a straightforward establishment with quick and delicious meals. I visit the park across the street if I have some free time after dining. There, it’s peaceful, and my favorite bench is nearly always empty. I simply sit and observe the people around me.
I saw a girl one day. Little, no older than ten years. According to her uniform, she arrived daily at about the same hour, immediately following school lunches. She pulled out her backpack, set it next to her, and sat on a neighboring bench. and she dozed off sitting up after a few minutes. She closed her eyes and had a straight back, but she wasn’t lying down or covering up.
After ten to fifteen minutes of sleep, she got up, picked up her backpack, and vanished. Day after day, this continued. thin, always wearing clean clothes, and having pigtails that are tightly braided. She simply came and fell asleep, without any toys or phones. I didn’t become involved, but my anxiety increased every day. Something about it seemed odd.
When I finally gave in and spoke with the girl one day, I learned something really depressing about her. 
When she had barely woken up, I cautiously walked up to her and inquired in a hushed voice:
I apologize, but may I ask you a question? You sleep here every day, but why? Are you unable to sleep at home?
She gave me a composed, adult-like gaze and then, after a brief silence, said:
– I just had a younger sibling. Mom is exhausted. Dad isn’t present. She doesn’t sleep much. I strive to assist. I get up, hold my younger sister, and rock her when she cries at night so that my mother may get some rest.
I still have to help out around the house after school and schoolwork in the morning. I don’t want my mother to be aware of my fatigue. I can sleep here, though. No one notices.
I was at a loss for words. Goosebumps and a lump in my throat. This young girl was carrying a load that few adults could handle. Nevertheless, she just cares for her mother and has no complaints or self-pity.
Ever since, I bring her a bun and hot cocoa. We don’t discuss it. We simply sit on the bench together. Then we continue.
It turns out that the smallest people can often be the strongest.
