The morning air in the Angkor Wat forest felt cool and still, the kind of quiet that comes just before the sun fully rises. Ancient temple stones held the night’s chill, and a light mist hovered between the trees.
That’s when I heard it—a small, steady cry.
It wasn’t loud enough to echo through the ruins, but it carried clearly in the stillness. A baby monkey, barely strong enough to sit upright on its own, clung to its mother’s chest. Its tiny face pressed forward, searching.
Hunger is a simple thing. But in that moment, it felt profound.
The mother sat calmly on a worn stone ledge, her posture relaxed but alert. She adjusted her arms slightly, guiding her baby closer. The little one reached instinctively, small fingers curling into her fur.
Within seconds, the baby began to nurse.
The shift was immediate. The restless movements softened. The small cries faded into quiet contentment. Its body relaxed fully into the safety of its mother’s embrace.
Visitors passed at a distance, cameras lowered, voices hushed. Even without words, everyone seemed to understand that this was something intimate.
For American readers, it’s a familiar scene in a different setting. The early morning feeding before work. The rocking chair in a quiet nursery. The feeling of responding to a need before the world fully wakes.
The mother monkey never rushed. She remained still, scanning the forest occasionally while keeping her baby close. Protective and steady.
As sunlight slowly filtered through the canopy, golden beams touched the pair. The temples behind them stood ancient and silent, but this moment was new—alive and tender.
After feeding, the baby lifted its head briefly, blinking sleepily before resting against her chest. The mother gently groomed the top of its head, a soft finishing gesture of reassurance.
Soon after, she lifted the baby onto her back, where it wrapped its small limbs securely around her. Together, they moved upward into the trees, blending into the green.
The forest resumed its rhythm.
But that small morning cry—and the calm response that followed—stayed with me long after.
Sometimes love is simply answering when hunger calls.
