It was a quiet afternoon when Monkey Lyly surprised everyone. With a determined look on her face, she began packing her little bag—folding her tiny clothes with such care and focus. Her mother watched silently at first, confused but curious. Lyly didn’t say a word. She simply gathered her things, stuffed her favorite blanket into the bag, and tried to zip it up with her small hands.
When her mother gently asked, “Lyly, what are you doing?” the little monkey looked up, her eyes filled with emotion. “I want to go back to our old house,” she said softly. “I miss it there. I miss how everything smelled, and how the sun came through the windows in the morning. I miss the sound of the birds outside my window.”
It broke her mother’s heart to see her little one struggling with such big feelings. Lyly had always been a sensitive soul, and the move to the new house—though necessary—had been hard on her. Her mother knelt down, pulling her into a warm hug before the little monkey could slip out the door.
“We can’t go back,” her mother whispered gently, “but that doesn’t mean we have to forget it. Our memories are still with us, and we can carry those in our hearts. You’re not alone, Lyly. I miss it too.”
Lyly clung to her mother, silent tears falling down her cheeks. It wasn’t just about the old house—it was about the change, the unfamiliar, the longing for comfort. But her mother’s words and loving embrace reminded her that home wasn’t just a place. It was the people who loved her.
That day, Monkey Lyly didn’t leave. Her bag stayed packed for a little while longer, but she slowly started to settle into her new life—knowing she was understood, and most importantly, that she was not alone.
