High in the warm canopy of the forest, a gentle mother monkey named Mira moved slowly from branch to branch. Her fur looked a little dusty from the long morning, and her breathing was soft but heavy. Clinging tightly to her belly was her tiny baby, Rumi, who refused to let go even for a moment. From sunrise until now, he had wrapped his little arms around her, following every movement, every jump, every pause she made.
Mira loved her baby deeply, but today she was truly exhausted. She tried to sit on a wide tree limb to rest, hoping Rumi would loosen his grip. But the moment she shifted her weight, he clung even tighter, burying his face into her chest with a soft whimper. Mira looked down at him with patient eyes and gently stroked his tiny back. She understood he was still learning to feel safe in the big world around them.
The troop moved through the forest, but Mira lagged behind a little. Each time she tried to set Rumi down so she could groom her fur or find food, he cried softly and reached up with trembling hands. Even tired, Mira never scolded him. Instead, she lifted him again and continued her slow steps across the branches.
As afternoon sunlight streamed through the leaves, the troop settled for a break. Mira finally found a comfortable spot, curled her body around Rumi, and let him rest against her heartbeat. Though worn out, she watched him calmly, knowing this stage would pass. Babies cling long when their world still feels uncertain.
Rumi’s breathing slowed, his tiny fingers relaxed, and at last he drifted to sleep. Mira sighed with relief, pulled him close, and closed her eyes too—grateful for a quiet moment, even while carrying the weight of love on her chest.
