I am five years old in this memory. My little brother is now two years old, and every day he runs around inside our tiny half-dilapidated apartment full of energy.
Even though my mother has been careful to make our home hazard-free, due to the tiny space, our living area is filled with edges of the furniture. My little brother does not yet have a good control over his body, and he often bumps into one of these edges. Usually, it is his head or toe that gets caught and bruised.
The bruise is never really serious – in the worst case, a tiny bump on his head.
“You’ll be alright, Sweetie,” my mother consoles him when he comes to her crying. “There is nothing to worry about. It was painful, but it will soon pass.”
But my brother is not satisfied. He needs a proper treatment to feel better.
“I want a band-aid.”
“A band-aid? But you’re not bleeding, Sweetie.”
“I want a band-aid,” my brother insists.
So my mother takes out a band-aid and puts it on his cheek.
“Do you feel better now?”
The effect of the band-aid is instant. My brother stops crying and goes back to playing as if nothing had happened. No more mention of the pain.
A band-aid is my brother’s mental comfort. It does not matter which part of his body was hurt or what kind of injury. A band-aid always makes him feel better. This is the reason why you often find a band-aid somewhere on his face.