I still remember the exact moment—my heart pounding as I stood hidden behind strangling vines in the dense, misty canopy of the Angkor Wat forest. The air smelled of ancient roots and hidden stories. I had been tracking the troop, hoping to witness their daily ritual. That’s when Baila, the strong and daring older sister, turned and walked away—her small feet vanishing into the shadow of grove-covered temple ruins. I held my breath. Something about the way she slipped away… I felt a pang of helplessness.
As Baila retreated, like a silent echo tracing her steps, my eyes caught movement below. Little Amber, her younger companion, sat shivering on a moss-covered stone, eyes wide and uncertain. She looked lost, abandoned in the heart of memory-laced ruins. My chest tightened.
Then—something changed. Amber, trembling, rose and did something unimaginable. She stretched one trembling arm toward the path where Baila had disappeared, then turned, gazing at the mossy wall and twisting roots around her. With a soft sound—almost like a sigh—Amber reached out and traced a gentle mark on the moss, as though writing a silent note to Baila: “I’m here. Come back.”
Tears stung my eyes. It was such a small gesture, but in that ancient forest, it felt monumental. Amber’s gnarled fingers brushed the stone, her eyes searching for a sign. The forest seemed to hold its breath. Birds paused their chatter. And then—Baila appeared again, stepping into a shaft of golden morning light that spilled through a broken temple doorway. Her posture softened when she saw Amber’s makeshift “mark,” that silent plea.
I watched as Amber scrambled forward, offering—unprompted—her small shoulder for Baila to rest against. No words. Just two hearts bound amid centuries-old stones. In that moment, I felt an electric surge of connection—not just to them, but to the timeless empathy pulsing through nature itself. I swear I could hear the temple whisper, “This is love.”
I’ve told that story countless times now, but even as I write this, inside this quiet cafe back in the States, I can still hear the echo of that rustling jungle and feel the weight of that connection. It wasn’t just a cute moment—it was a reminder that even in isolation, joy can come from the simplest act of reaching out, of waiting, of believing. And though we may walk away, love can find its way back.
