The morning air around Angkor Wat carries a kind of stillness you don’t find in many places anymore.
That was where I first noticed Punch — small, wide-eyed, and just beginning to explore life beyond clinging to his mother’s side.
He wasn’t the boldest young monkey in the troop. He watched more than he leapt. He studied before he tried. And that morning, he seemed especially curious about something happening a few feet away.
Two older monkeys were grooming each other — slow, deliberate movements, fingers parting fur with practiced care.
Punch inched closer.
He hesitated once, then twice, before finally settling beside one of them. He sat upright, trying to look calm, though his tail flicked with nervous excitement.
The older monkey glanced down — then, without ceremony, began gently grooming him.
At first, Punch froze.
You could almost see the surprise ripple through his tiny frame. His shoulders softened. His eyes slowly closed halfway. His breathing shifted.
It was his first grooming.
And he didn’t want it to end.
After a few seconds, he leaned slightly closer, subtly repositioning himself as if to say, “Right here too.”
Watching him, I couldn’t help but think of childhood moments back in the United States — the first haircut, the first day at school, the first time a teacher reassures you with a steady hand on your shoulder.
Grooming in monkey society is more than hygiene.
It’s trust.
It’s acceptance.
It’s connection.
Punch seemed to realize that instinctively. When the older monkey paused, Punch gently nudged forward again, almost politely asking for more.
There was no impatience in the adult’s response. Just a continuation of the quiet ritual.
The forest sounds carried on around them — birds overhead, leaves shifting in the breeze — but in that small circle, something personal was unfolding.
Punch wasn’t just being groomed.
He was being welcomed.
By the time the session ended, Punch looked different. Not physically — but emotionally. He moved with a new softness, lingering near the older monkey instead of retreating.
Belonging changes posture.
Confidence often begins in small, repeated gestures of care.
And in that ancient forest, among stones that have stood for centuries, I witnessed something deeply familiar:
A young soul discovering the comfort of community.
