Although the young monkey had grown up, it still couldn’t accept being weaned by its mother. To everyone in the troop, it looked big enough, energetic enough, and curious enough to explore the world on its own—but in its heart, it was still the same tiny infant who found comfort only in its mother’s warm embrace. Each morning, when the sun rose over the forest canopy, the youngster hurried to its mother’s side, hoping for one more moment of nursing, one more taste of the comfort it remembered so well.
But the mother knew the time had come. She gently pushed the youngster away, offering instead pieces of soft fruits and tender leaves. She wasn’t angry, nor was she uncaring—this was simply the way of growing up. Still, the little monkey couldn’t understand. It clung to her fur, crying softly, hoping she might change her mind. Sometimes it followed her step by step, tugging on her arm or resting its head against her shoulder, searching for the comfort it couldn’t let go of.
The mother, with patience shaped by nature itself, continued guiding the young one. She let it stay close, allowed it to curl beside her during rest, and reassured it through soft touches and gentle grooming. Slowly, the youngster began to realize that although one part of its childhood was ending, its mother hadn’t abandoned it at all.
Day by day, its cries lessened. It learned how to find fruits on its own, how to climb higher branches confidently, and how to play with others in the troop without fear. And while it still returned to its mother for comfort, it no longer begged to nurse. Instead, it found new strength—steady, growing, and full of promise.
Growing up was hard, but with its mother’s patience, the young monkey finally took its first steps into independence.
