Meet the 25 years old, 1.25 inch tall Andrew and his 49 years old mother as they enjoy a nice holiday at the sea.

"So, what should we do today?" mom said.

"You decide," I replied, "I’m in for anything. I love this place!"

"Want to go down to the beach?" she suggested.

"Yeeeessssss!" I exclaimed.

"But first, let’s finish this breakfast, one more roll for me, and we’ll be fine for some hours. How about you? Need more?"

"No thanks, I’ll be stuffed and have plenty left."

"Can’t protest on that, I gave you a lot," she smiled.

Which was true. While mom finished 3 rolls with cheese and an apple, and certainly could have had more, the crumbs she gave me was quite a lot for me. And I really got stuffed, and had lots left. At 1.25 inch the summary of these crumbs of bread, cheese and apple almost equaled my whole size, for my mom they were just crumbs.

We were sitting at the corner of this small hotel’s breakfast room, a bit away from the other guests. I was sitting on mom’s coffee saucer with my crumbs directly on it and my coffee in her tea spoon, shielded by her coffee cup. She was wearing phone ear plugs, which made her look like she was talking on the phone all the time, while she was just talking to me. After all I was invisible to the other guests and personnel. Mom looked like she was on holiday all by herself.

*****

I was born 25 years ago and grew up as my mom’s only child. Mom didn’t even understand she was pregnant. The thing growing inside was so tiny it didn’t affect her waist size the slightest bit. Although all the pregnancy symptoms were present, they were all dismissed as some sort of biological rarity. Which held some truth as a baby the size of a rice grain is in itself a rarity, if not unique. It was pure luck that I survived the birth or was noticed at all. Mom gave birth at home, thinking it was a miscarriage of an early embryo, she barely noticed what was lying there. She eventually found I was actually an alive, tiny baby, worth saving and nurturing.

As I didn’t grow up to any normal baby size, she determined that I may have had some genetic defect that severely stunted my growth. Due to my tiny, vulnerable state, mom was reluctant to take me to the doctor for an examination, but she eventually did, after first telling the doctor on the phone she needed to check something without any journal entry. Which the doctor agreed about and kept when she saw my vulnerable state. As a rarity my whole life would have been at risk if I was put through a lot of scientific publicity, so no record was ever made about me. Just an entry about the examination of my mother’s inflamed tendon.

So, I grew up in her care, her only offspring, the result of a one-night-stand she once had some 26 years ago. Now as a small adult, I’m still totally dependent on her care, and she’s the only contact I have besides her doctor when needed.

*****

"Let’s go to the room and get changed and pack our stuff," she said and she put me in my little house inside her purse. A house I truly love, and which has been a blessing to me whenever I need some quietness, privacy, sleep, or for transport with my mom. She built it herself, from hobby plywood. It’s 4x3 inches wide, with two rooms, separated by a wall made from stacked, glued matchsticks. Its height is 2.5 inches including the plywood floor and roof. The roof itself is a lid for mom to open to pick me up or put me down, and it’s secured by a latch at the front wall. The front wall has a tiny door, and there are tiny windows on all sides. The door and windows are just glued in LEGO parts. The interior walls, floor and roof are all covered with cotton pad cushions, covered by really soft silk. Really comfy inside it. And here I am now sitting, in my mom’s purse while she walks back to the room.

After changing and packing we went out. I was put in her blouse pocket leaning my arms over its edge so that I could look out, see the people, the sea, and the whole landscape around here. It was truly beautiful. This place was not the typical place for mass tourism. It was a rather sleepy, country village at the sea. We had gotten her by train and bus, about a couple of hours by railway and 30 minutes by bus from the nearest station. The beach was almost empty. Just a few people at the peak of the day. And this was our second day at the beach. The other days we had gone shopping, and just looked around the areas here.

We settled down on the beach and stayed there for a couple of hours, before mom suggested we could go for a walk along the beach to explore some more before having lunch. As she walked down the beach, I was once again sitting in her blouse pocket, looking at the sea, land and life around us.

That’s when it happened. A sudden gust of wind tears at mom’s blouse, and I was thrown out, taken by the wind. All I could see while flying away, carried by the wind, was mom totally in chock as she looked down to her pocket. I panicked as the wind carried me to the sea, and I could see my shocked mother seeing me flying into the ocean as she ran after. A fortunate turn of the stream carried me back into the land and away from the beach. I could see my mom wading into the sea, frantically looking around for me in the sea, before she disappeared from my view as I flew between some buildings on land. I was lost, helpless, my whole life at the sole mercy of the wind.