Disappointment is better than the great devastation he felt for the lone chick that did develop, but failed to poke its way through the air sac of its shell.
Y then is for yielding. A giving in to that devastation. A small bird perfectly formed. Died. Just because it failed at making its own way out into the world.
And he remembered then something his mother often said: "Don't expect life to be fair." In far less unfair situations, so far, in his seven years. As when the string on his first yo-yo broke for no good reason.
He'd made the best of it, the broken yo-yo. He couldn't yo-yo very well, anyway, so he tied it to a tree branch as a swing for the birds. He'd made the best of unfairness. And that was not something his mother had taught him. To survive himself, he would never yield to hopelessness.
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