Deep inside the quiet corners of the Angkor Wat forest, where the sunlight gently slides through the ancient trees, I witnessed a moment that made my heart stop for a second — and then smile. It was Baby Charry, the smallest and most curious little monkey in her family. That morning, she wasn’t playing… she was trying something new. Something brave. Something scary.
She stood at the edge of a mossy log, bigger than her tiny body, looking down as if studying a giant mountain. She curled her toes, looked around for her mother, then tried to make her way down. She was learning — learning how to be brave.
But before anyone could react — her tiny feet slipped.
She slid too fast. Her small hands reached out to grab the bark — but she couldn’t hold on.
For a moment, the forest went silent.
Then, a soft cry. Not loud. Not painful. Just scared.
That kind of cry that reminds us all how fragile growing up really is.
Her mother, who had been grooming her older son nearby, turned so fast that leaves flew behind her. She rushed toward Baby Charry, gently lifting her before she hit the ground. She didn’t scold her. She didn’t rush her. She simply held her close… like every mother does when their child touches fear for the first time.
That moment felt powerful — not because she fell…
But because she tried again.
Only five minutes later, Baby Charry walked back to the same spot. She looked down. Her heart might have been beating fast — maybe she remembered the slip — but this time she crouched lower, studied the surface carefully, and slowly tested her grip.
She tried a new way. She learned from what scared her.
Just like every child.
Just like every human.
Just like each one of us.
Watching her struggle reminded me of all those times we’ve faced fears. Maybe it was learning to walk. Maybe it was starting a new job. Maybe it was moving to a new place all alone. Fear doesn’t wait until we’re ready. It simply arrives — and asks us who we want to become.
Baby Charry was answering that question… with courage.
And as the sun rose through the ancient trees, her mother sat nearby, eyes always watching — ready, but not interfering. It was as if she knew: children grow not by being protected from fear — but by learning how to face it.
Finally — Charry made it down successfully. Her landing was clumsy but soft… her tail swinging proudly. Then came the cutest moment of all — she looked back at the log with a proud little face, as if saying, “I did it. I’m learning.”
I’ll never forget this day. Not because I saw a baby monkey slip —
But because I saw the courage to stand up and try again.
That’s what the Angkor Wat forest teaches:
Life doesn’t always wait for us to be ready —
but it always gives us another chance.
