Nathaniel and Bodhi: The Night of a Tiny Goodbye
Why We Wrote This Story
At Little Yoddha Steps, we believe that every child deserves stories that reflect the full range of their emotions — not just joy and giggles, but also sadness, confusion, and quiet goodbyes.
This story was written to help children (and parents) navigate the tender experience of loss — whether it’s a missing toy, a forgotten routine, or something that simply won’t return.
Inspired by the Buddhist story of Kisa Gotami and the shared experiences of many families, this gentle tale encourages connection, compassion, and the kind of wisdom that only a giant teddy bear like Bodhi can offer.
Perfect for ages 2–6, it’s a story to be read curled up close — perhaps with your own bedtime bear.
🎧 Want to listen instead?
You can enjoy Nathaniel and Bodhi: The Night of the Tiny Goodbye as a free audio experience, perfect for bedtime wind-down:
▶️ [Click here to listen with gentle background music]
▶️ [Or click here for a version with just the narration]
Whichever you choose, we hope it brings comfort, calm, and connection to your evening routine.
📖 The Story
(Scroll down to read, and enjoy each illustrated chapter along the way.)
Welcome to a quiet bedtime journey…
This is “Nathaniel and Bodhi: The Night of the Tiny Goodbye.”
A gentle tale about love, loss, and the small ways we learn to let go.
Written to soothe hearts, big and small. Let’s begin…
Nathaniel and Bodhi: The Night of the Tiny Goodbye
Chapter 1: The Missing Monkey
It was a warm morning filled with the smell of toast and strawberry jam.
Nathaniel sat on the floor by the couch, flipping through his picture book.
Sophia, his little sister, giggled at the table as Mum cut up her banana.
Dad poured tea, humming softly.
But something didn’t feel quite right.
Nathaniel looked around the room. His eyes scanned the bookshelf, the toy bin, the fluffy blanket on the chair.
His chest tightened.
"Where’s Eddie?" he whispered.
Eddie was a tiny plastic monkey with a cheeky grin and one ear a little bent.
He’d been Dad’s toy when he was a boy — a traveler’s monkey, Dad used to say.
"Eddie came with me to the mountains of Peru and the trains in Japan," Dad told him once.
"He even sat in my pocket on my wedding day, right here," he said, pointing to a faded photo.
And now Eddie belonged to Nathaniel.
He slept beside him, hid in his coat pockets, and rode along in toy trains.
But today… Eddie was gone.
Nathaniel searched the whole house.
Under the couch.
Behind the curtains.
Inside his slipper.
Even in the garden gnome’s hat outside.
Nothing.
His throat wobbled.
Tears gathered but didn’t fall.
When he finally told Dad, a shadow crossed Dad’s face.
"I see," Dad said gently, kneeling beside him.
He looked at the empty spot on the shelf where Eddie often sat.
"That little monkey meant a lot to me too."
Nathaniel nodded.
They sat in silence, side by side on the rug.
Neither of them spoke much after that.
Later, while Mum helped Sophia with her shoes,
Nathaniel climbed the stairs and peeked into his room.
There, on the bed where the blanket was still rumpled from morning play, sat Bodhi —
his big, soft teddy bear with kind stitched eyes and a velvety brown nose.
Nathaniel touched Bodhi’s paw.
"I miss Eddie," he whispered.
"I wish you could help."
He knew Bodhi had come alive once before,
in the quiet of a dream.
And though it didn’t happen every time…
maybe tonight, it might.
Chapter 2: Wondering at Bedtime
That night, Nathaniel lay curled around Bodhi in bed,
his knees tucked up and the blanket pulled to his chin.
The room was quiet, and the soft hush of nighttime wrapped around him like a big invisible blanket.
Somewhere downstairs, the floor creaked lightly.
Then stillness again.
Eddie’s usual spot on the shelf was empty.
Nathaniel had checked it three times before brushing his teeth.
He missed seeing that tiny monkey grinning down at him —
the little bent ear, the scuffed belly from so many adventures.
He squeezed Bodhi a little closer.
The big teddy’s soft belly rose up like a hill under Nathaniel’s arm.
His fur was worn smooth in places,
especially where Nathaniel held him the tightest.
"I wish you could help," Nathaniel whispered into Bodhi’s ear.
"I don’t know how to stop missing him."
He remembered the last time —
how Bodhi had come alive in a dream,
how he’d spoken with a voice like warm wind
and helped Nathaniel find calm inside a stormy day.
"I wish you’d come again tonight," Nathaniel said softly.
"I think I need your kind of wisdom."
The stars outside twinkled like little breaths.
Nathaniel closed his eyes, his cheek resting on Bodhi’s shoulder,
and waited.
Chapter 3: The Dream Meadow
In the hush between sleeping and waking,
Nathaniel felt grass beneath his feet.
Soft, warm, swaying grass.
He stood in a wide meadow with golden hills and sky that smelled like honey and pine.
Butterflies danced above tiny blue flowers.
In the middle of it all, beneath a tree with bark like braided rope,
sat Bodhi.
The Wise Bear.
Still.
Smiling.
Waiting.
Nathaniel ran, his heart lightening with each step.
He didn’t ask how Bodhi had come — only wrapped his arms around his thick fur.
"I lost Eddie," Nathaniel said, muffled in the bear’s chest.
"He was Dad’s favorite. I tried and tried to find him."
Bodhi stroked Nathaniel’s back with his giant paw.
Nathaniel looked up, hopeful.
"Can you fix it?"
Bodhi was quiet.
His ears twitched in the breeze.
"Sometimes, fixing doesn’t look the way we think it will," he said slowly.
"But… maybe there’s something we can try."
Nathaniel sat up straighter.
"Really?"
Bodhi gave a soft nod and looked out across the tall grass.
"See those houses out there? Little homes, tucked between the flowers?"
Nathaniel squinted.
He hadn’t noticed them before — but now they shimmered in the distance like tiny lanterns.
"I need you to visit them," said Bodhi.
"And ask each one just one thing."
"What’s the question?"
"Ask them…" Bodhi paused, then spoke clearly.
"Have you ever lost something special?"
Nathaniel blinked.
He opened his mouth to ask why,
but something about Bodhi’s calm, steady gaze made him stop.
He nodded instead.
Without another word, Nathaniel turned toward the first house.
His small feet brushed through the grass.
The sky above was soft and wide.
Chapter 4: The Houses of Loss
The first house was red with a crooked chimney and a wind chime that tinkled like teacups.
Nathaniel knocked gently.
A small fox opened the door.
"Hello," Nathaniel said politely.
"Have you ever lost something special?"
The fox adjusted his round glasses and smiled softly.
"Oh yes," he said. "A smooth green stone. I kept it in my satchel and rubbed it when I was nervous.
One day it slipped through a crack in the bridge. I looked everywhere, but it was gone.
I missed it for a long time."
Nathaniel thanked him and moved on.
The second house was round and made of cobblestone.
An owl opened the door, wrapped in a patchwork shawl.
"Have you ever lost something special?"
The owl blinked slowly.
"My old quilt," she said. "My grandmother stitched it with stars and moons.
It smelled like mint and nighttime stories.
But one stormy evening, it blew right out the window."
She gave Nathaniel a kind look.
"Now I remember her in other ways."
Nathaniel nodded, already stepping toward the next door.
A raccoon who had lost a drawing.
A bunny who had lost a tiny silver bell.
A deer who had lost the warmest corner of her den during a flood.
Each creature had a different story.
Some spoke with soft smiles.
Others grew quiet, eyes shining just a little.
Each time Nathaniel asked his question,
the answer was always yes.
By the time he reached the last little home,
he wasn’t hoping for a different answer anymore.
He turned back toward Bodhi.
The question still echoed in his chest—
but now, so did something else.
A feeling not quite fixed,
but softer.
Chapter 5: Bodhi’s Gentle Wisdom
Nathaniel walked back through the meadow,
his small hands brushing the tops of the grass.
Bodhi was waiting beneath the braided tree,
right where they had started.
"Well?" the bear asked gently.
Nathaniel sat down beside him.
"They all said yes," he murmured.
"Every single one."
Bodhi didn’t speak.
He only listened.
Nathaniel looked down at his knees.
"I thought maybe someone hadn’t.
That maybe I’d find the right one…
and then Eddie could come back."
He looked up.
"But now I see…
it’s not just me.
Everyone loses something special."
Bodhi gave the faintest nod,
as though the wind itself had moved his fur.
They sat together for a while,
watching the sky stretch above the hills.
Nathaniel’s chest still felt a little tender.
But something inside him had shifted.
Not gone… just different.
Lighter.
He turned to say thank you—
but Bodhi was already fading into the breeze,
his soft shape dissolving like mist in morning light.
Chapter 6: Toast, Silence, and a Smile
Morning came with golden light spilling through the curtains.
Mum was at the stove.
Sophia was clapping jammy fingers together.
And Dad… Dad was quiet again.
Nathaniel slid into his chair at the kitchen table.
No one mentioned Eddie.
The silence curled around the clinking of spoons and the hum of the kettle.
Nathaniel picked up a slice of toast,
then put it down again.
He looked at Dad.
"Dad?"
His father turned, eyes a little tired.
"I had a dream last night," Nathaniel said.
"I talked to lots of animals.
I asked them if they’d ever lost something special."
Dad raised an eyebrow, gently curious.
"They all had," Nathaniel went on.
"A stone. A quilt. A bell.
No one said no."
He paused.
"I thought if I found someone who hadn’t lost anything,
Eddie might come back.
But now I think… maybe it’s okay that he’s gone.
Not happy-okay, just… it’s part of things."
For a moment, the kitchen was very still.
Then Dad reached across the table
and placed his big hand over Nathaniel’s.
"That little monkey meant a lot to me," Dad said softly.
"But hearing you say that—"
his voice caught a little—
"makes me feel proud.
Really proud."
Nathaniel smiled,
and Dad smiled back.
Mum turned from the stove with shining eyes.
Sophia sneezed into her porridge.
And just like that, breakfast continued.
Toast, porridge, sleepy smiles—
and everyone exactly where they belonged.
THE END
Thank you for reading our story.
We hope Nathaniel and Bodhi: The Night of the Tiny Goodbye brings a moment of peace, connection, or even a meaningful conversation to your family’s bedtime routine.
From our hearts to yours — may your evenings be calm, your goodbyes gentle, and your little ones held in comfort.