In the early morning chill, the soft fog hovered over the ground as a tiny baby monkey sat shivering near a tree stump. His little arms hugged his chest, and his wide eyes scanned the area—Mama was gone.
Just moments ago, they were curled up together, warm and close. But now, Mama had walked off into the distance, probably to find some food or check on the others. She didn’t go far, but for her baby, it felt like a world away.
As the cool wind brushed his back, the baby let out a tiny, trembling cry. Then another. His voice cracked in fear and discomfort, the kind of cry that only meant one thing: “Mama, I need you!”
His little nose twitched, and tears welled up as he tried to scoot closer to where he had last seen her. But he was still too small, too cold, and too scared.
Nearby caretakers heard his cries and came closer, worried he was hurt. But he wasn’t injured—he was just heartbroken, missing the warm comfort of his mother’s body and scent.
Minutes passed like hours in baby time. Then, suddenly, Mama returned—leaping down from a tree with a small fruit in her hand.
As soon as he saw her, the baby’s cries turned into soft squeaks, and he rushed toward her. Mama scooped him up with ease and curled around him tightly, pressing her warm belly against his cold fur.
Peace returned in an instant.
The baby monkey stopped shivering, stopped crying. All he needed was her.
Because in his world, Mama’s hug is home.
