Under the tall palm tree, in the quiet heat of the afternoon, a tiny baby monkey sat curled at the base of the trunk. His name was Tomo, and he was no more than a few weeks old — soft, fragile, and completely alone.
His belly rumbled with hunger, and his soft cries echoed through the still air. “Eeeh… eeeh…” he called out, his voice weak but full of desperation. There was no mother nearby, no warm chest to cling to, no gentle arms to hold him.
Tomo’s fur was dusty, and his eyes were rimmed with tears. Every few seconds, he lifted his head, searching — hoping — that someone would come. But the breeze only carried the sound of birds and rustling leaves.
All he wanted was milk… warmth… love. His tiny hands clutched a palm root, as if it could comfort him.
His cries grew louder, more broken.
Then, footsteps.
A caregiver from the nearby sanctuary, out to gather fallen fruit, heard the sounds. She paused. Her heart tightened as she followed the crying, pushing gently through the brush.
There he was — so small, trembling, too weak to even stand.
“Oh sweetheart,” she whispered, kneeling beside him. “Are you all alone?”
She gently wrapped him in a soft cloth, bringing him close to her chest. Tomo let out one last sob, then snuggled into the warmth, clinging with all his strength.
In the sanctuary, he was given warm milk drop by drop, and his tiny eyes fluttered closed at last.
For the first time in hours, he felt safe.
Tomo had lost his mother… but love found him under the palm tree.
And now, he would never have to cry alone again.
