TENSE LOOKING OUTSIDE! Mimi Is Still Traumatized By The Flood 😭

The afternoon sun peeked out from behind the clouds, shining softly across the yard. Everything looked calm—too calm, Mimi thought. The little monkey sat near the window, her tiny hands gripping the wooden frame while her eyes stayed fixed outside. She wasn’t looking at anything in particular, but she was watching, waiting, almost frozen.

Ever since the flood, Mimi hadn’t been the same.

A week earlier, the rain had come down so hard that it felt like the sky had opened all at once. Water rushed through the village, covering the ground, swallowing everything familiar. Mimi had been caught outside when it happened—just a little monkey playing near the fence, unaware how quickly the world could change. One moment she was chasing a leaf, and the next she was being pushed by rushing water, her heart pounding as she clung to a bamboo post.

She had been rescued, held tightly against a warm chest, wrapped in a towel. She was safe now. But the safety hadn’t erased the fear.

Today, as Mimi stared outside, the world seemed harmless. The grass was green again. The flood water had dried. Birds hopped along the fence, chirping as if nothing had happened. But Mimi felt something different inside—like the fear still lived in her chest, tapping and reminding her of the day the world had roared.

“Come here, Mimi,” Mama gently called.

Mimi didn’t move. Her tail curled tightly around her leg. She looked outside again, blinking slowly. Every shadow looked like rising water. Every breeze felt like the start of another storm.

Mama walked up and knelt beside her. “Sweet girl,” she whispered softly, “it’s okay. You can come away from the window.”

But Mimi shook her head. She didn’t want to go outside, she didn’t want to leave the window, and she didn’t want to stop watching—because watching made her feel a little safer. Watching meant she wasn’t surprised again.

Mama placed a hand on Mimi’s back, rubbing slow circles. “You’re safe now,” she said. “No flood. No danger. Just sunshine.”

Sunshine. Mimi heard the word but didn’t feel its warmth. Her eyes stayed fixed on a puddle in the yard—small, harmless, but still water. When a breeze passed, the surface rippled, and Mimi tensed instantly, her shoulders tightening.

Mama noticed. “Let’s take a break, okay? Come sit with me.”

She lifted Mimi gently, letting the little monkey cling to her shirt. Mimi’s tiny fingers dug in, not out of fear of falling, but out of fear of letting go. Mama sat on the floor, holding her close, letting her rest her head against her chest. Mimi trembled slightly.

“You’re thinking about the flood again, aren’t you?” Mama whispered.

Mimi nodded.

“It was scary. I know. But you were brave, Mimi. Very brave.”

Brave? Mimi didn’t feel brave. Brave monkeys didn’t freeze. Brave monkeys didn’t wake up in the middle of the night at every sound. Brave monkeys didn’t stare out windows all day. She felt small, scared, unsure of everything.

Mama didn’t rush her. She didn’t push her to talk or move. She just held her, giving the quiet comfort that Mimi needed.

After a few minutes, Mama reached for a soft blanket and wrapped it around Mimi like a warm cocoon. Mimi finally relaxed enough to breathe deeper. Her trembling slowed.

“Let’s have a snack,” Mama offered gently.

Bananas, mango slices, warm milk—Mimi’s favorites. She wasn’t very hungry, but she accepted a slice of mango. The sweetness helped calm her a little more. Mama sat beside her, eating quietly too, showing Mimi that there was no rush.

After the snack, Mama placed Mimi on her lap again. “Mimi, I want to show you something.”

She opened a small box filled with tiny toys and objects that had floated away during the flood but were found afterward. Mimi’s wooden bead, her little cloth ribbon, even her tiny bell—things she thought she had lost forever.

Mimi reached out slowly and touched them. Her expression softened with recognition.

“These came back to you,” Mama said. “Just like you came back to safety.”

Mimi held the ribbon tightly in her hand. She remembered holding it the morning before the storm. Seeing it again felt like a piece of her old world had been restored.

After a while, Mama stood up and carried Mimi to the door—not outside, just to the doorway where sunlight spilled across the floor.

“Look,” Mama whispered.

Outside, a butterfly fluttered across the yard, wings glowing blue and white. It danced from flower to flower, completely unbothered by the world. Mimi watched carefully—not scared this time, but curious. Her shoulders relaxed just a little.

Mama knelt again. “You don’t have to go outside today. You don’t have to go tomorrow. You go when you’re ready. And I’ll be here every moment until then.”

Mimi leaned her head against Mama’s shoulder. She wasn’t ready to face the yard. Not yet. But for the first time all week, she didn’t feel the need to keep watching the yard so closely. She let herself look away from the window.

As the sun dipped lower, turning the yard golden, Mimi finally let out a tiny sigh. A soft, relieved sound. It wasn’t a full recovery. It wasn’t complete peace. But it was a small step—a gentle beginning.

Mama stroked her back again. “You’re healing, Mimi. Bit by bit. And that’s enough.”

Mimi hugged her tighter.

Tonight, she might still feel tense. Tomorrow, she might still hesitate at the window. She might still remember the roaring water rushing past her tiny feet.

But she also had Mama’s arms.

She had warmth, snacks, her ribbon, and a safe home.

And slowly—slowly—she would learn that not every shadow meant danger, not every puddle meant flood, and not every breeze meant fear.

For now, resting in Mama’s arms, Mimi closed her eyes and felt something new—something small but powerful.

Hope.