The worry jar

Meera had a tummy that felt tight. It had been tight for three days, ever since her class teacher said there would be a test on tables on Monday. Meera knew her tables. Mostly. But the worry sat in her tummy like a small, hard stone.

That evening, her Mausi came to stay. Mausi put a steel dabba on the table. It was empty. 'This is a worry jar,' she said. 'You can put worries in it, and the jar will keep them safe while we think.'

Meera took a small piece of paper. She did not know how to write 'the stone in my tummy', so she drew a stone. Then she drew herself next to it, looking sad.

'What is this one?' Mausi asked softly.

'It is about the test,' whispered Meera. 'What if I forget everything? Rohan said Miss will give a zero.'

Mausi did not laugh. She did not say, 'Don't be silly.' She sat close and said, 'That is a big feeling. Thank you for telling me. Shall we say your tables together, slowly, while we peel peas?'

So they did. Seven twos, seven threes. When Meera forgot seven eights, Mausi said, 'Let us find it together,' and they did.

Then Mausi showed Meera how to breathe: in through the nose, one, two, three, four, and out through the mouth, like blowing on hot chai. Meera did it three times. The stone in her tummy felt a little smaller.

'Worries are easier to carry when someone else holds them with you,' said Mausi. 'Whenever one comes, you can tell me, or Ma, or Miss. You are never alone with it.'

Meera folded her paper and dropped it into the dabba. It made a small, satisfying clink.

On Monday, the test was not so scary. She remembered seven eights. And that night, she told Ma about the next worry, a little earlier.

Talk about it together

• What does a worry feel like in your body?
• Who would you tell, if you had a worry?
• What helps you feel calmer?