It was early morning in the mystical forests surrounding Angkor Wat. Mist clung to the ancient stone ruins like delicate lace, and sunlight streamed through the dense foliage, painting the mossy stairs in gold and green. Birds chirped softly, and the air was cool, fragrant, alive. I had been walking along a narrow path, quietly soaking in the beauty of the temple grounds, when I heard a sharp, panicked cry that froze me in place.
I ran forward and saw Baby Albert, a tiny boy from a nearby village, teetering at the edge of the moss-covered stairs. He had wandered a little too close to a female macaque — wild, alert, and unpredictable. The air between them seemed calm, almost ordinary… until it wasn’t.
Suddenly, the monkey slapped Baby Albert across the shoulder. The force of the blow sent him tumbling backward. I gasped aloud, my heart leaping into my throat as I watched him roll down the stone steps, each twist of his small body echoing like a drumbeat of terror.
Time seemed to stand still.
I sprinted forward, my heart pounding in my chest. Villagers and fellow travelers rushed too, their faces masks of shock and fear. At the bottom of the staircase, Baby Albert lay still for a moment, eyes wide, chest rising and falling rapidly. Then, a soft, trembling cry escaped him — and relief washed over us all in an instant.
The female monkey, meanwhile, stood a few feet away, still watching. Her eyes were alert but calm, almost as if she understood the gravity of what had just happened. It was a strange, humbling moment — the raw, unpredictable power of nature meeting human vulnerability.
Albert’s mother sprinted to her child, tears streaming down her face. She scooped him up into a protective embrace, her hands trembling. And then, in that fragile, perfect moment, Albert smiled. Not a laugh of play, but a brave, resilient smile — the kind of smile that shines through fear and pain.
We carefully carried Albert back up the steps, each footstep deliberate and slow. Guides murmured soothing words, wrapping him in scarves and blankets to calm him. Albert held my hand as we climbed, and I felt the weight of the experience — not just his small, fragile body, but the enormity of life itself: delicate, unpredictable, and astonishingly precious.
The forest seemed to quiet around us, as if holding its breath. The female monkey lingered on a nearby ledge, watching quietly. Perhaps she was wary, perhaps curious. Perhaps, in her own way, she had checked that Albert was okay.
That morning, we witnessed both the wild unpredictability of nature and its surprising tenderness. One small child, one wild monkey, and one sacred place had combined to create a memory none of us would ever forget.
Even in the moments of fear and chaos, there was something profound: the reminder that life, even in its harshest lessons, can leave you humbled, inspired, and grateful for its fleeting beauty.
https://youtu.be/eq4wX_KkAsI?list=TLPQMTYxMjIwMjV6UpaNdfMQxQ
