Set in the Forests Near Angkor Wat, Cambodia
The sun had just broken through the thick jungle canopy, casting dappled light over the ancient roots and mossy stones that stretch across the sacred grounds of Angkor Wat. Visitors had already begun to gather, drawn not only to the temples but also to the curious troop of macaques that call this place home.
Among them was a young mother named Jutta, known to many frequent observers. She was proud, bold, and a little distracted—traits not uncommon among first-time monkey moms. But no one expected what happened that morning to unfold in such a heart-wrenching way.
It started with a simple climb. Jutta had noticed a food offering left behind by tourists near a tree. Her instincts kicked in and without hesitation, she darted off to investigate. But in doing so, she made a decision she would come to regret—she left her baby behind, unprotected on the forest floor.
The tiny infant, no more than a few weeks old, was still learning to navigate this unpredictable world. Watching her mother disappear behind the roots and foliage, she froze. Her small body trembled. Eyes wide, she let out a soft cry—not the kind that grabs attention, but the kind that breaks hearts.
Suddenly alone, the baby tried to follow, stumbling with uncertainty. Her feet wobbled on the uneven ground, and each movement seemed to say, “Mom, wait for me.” But Jutta didn’t look back.
For nearly three minutes—eternity for a baby monkey—she remained alone. And then something incredible happened.
Jutta returned.
Not at a run, but casually, as if nothing had happened. Maybe she had forgotten for just a moment that she wasn’t alone. But her baby’s reaction said everything: the moment she spotted her mother, she ran, arms outstretched, and clung to her leg like a lifeline.
Jutta didn’t push her away. She paused.
There was no dramatic reunion, no tears from the mother—but the baby didn’t need theatrics. All she needed was closeness.
For the rest of the morning, she stayed glued to Jutta’s side, not daring to let go. Even as Jutta moved about, grooming herself, foraging, or interacting with others, her child clung on—reminding every human who saw it of something deeply familiar: the desperate need to feel safe in the arms of the one who’s supposed to protect you.
Watching this unfold, I couldn’t help but feel something stir within me.
I’m a mother. And there were times, especially when my daughter was little, that I got distracted. Maybe it was work, maybe it was stress—maybe it was just life. But I remember those moments when I looked down and realized: she was scared. She needed me. And I wasn’t present.
That baby monkey reminded me that even in nature, mistakes are made. But also, that forgiveness comes in the smallest, simplest acts—like holding on.
