The morning sun peeked through the tall coconut trees of the little village, casting golden light on the bamboo houses. Birds chirped sweetly, roosters crowed proudly, and the smell of fresh rice filled the air. In one of those houses lived a tiny monkey named Chamroeun — energetic, talkative, and full of emotion.
Chamroeun was the beloved baby of his monkey family. His mom, Lina, was gentle and caring, while his dad, Rith, was strong and clever. Together, they were a happy little trio, always eating, playing, and napping together. Chamroeun loved being around his parents; wherever they went, he followed — holding onto his mother’s tail or climbing onto his father’s shoulder.
But one sunny morning, things changed.
Lina and Rith had to go to the village market to collect fruits and vegetables. It was something they did every few days, but Chamroeun didn’t like it one bit. He hated being left behind, even for a short time. The moment he saw his parents packing a little basket, his heart started to race.
He tilted his head, eyes wide, and made a worried sound: “Eeek? Eeeek?” as if asking, “Where are you going?”
His mother smiled and stroked his tiny head gently. “Chamroeun, Mommy and Daddy will go to the market for a little while,” she said softly. “We’ll bring you yummy bananas. Be a good boy and stay home, okay?”
But Chamroeun wasn’t convinced. He clung tightly to his mom’s arm, his face scrunched up in protest. His dad tried to distract him with a toy — a round coconut shell that Chamroeun loved to roll around — but the baby monkey pushed it away. He knew what was happening, and he didn’t like it.
When Lina and Rith finally stepped toward the bamboo gate, Chamroeun’s panic exploded.
“EEEEEEEEK! EEEEEEEEEK!” he screamed, his voice echoing through the quiet morning. His little hands grabbed the wooden post, his eyes filling with tears. He jumped up and down, calling out again and again, his cries louder each time.
His mom turned back, heart aching, but his dad gently held her hand. “Let him learn, my love,” Rith said. “He needs to know we’ll always come back.”
And so, with one last look, they walked down the path toward the market, disappearing behind the banana trees.
The moment they were gone, Chamroeun’s world felt empty. He ran back inside, then out again, not sure what to do. He climbed onto the window ledge and looked toward the road, hoping to see their familiar shapes. But there was only the soft sound of the wind and the rustling of leaves.
“EEEEEEEEK! MOMMMM! DADDDD!” he cried again, tears glistening in his big brown eyes.
He sat down, wrapping his tail around himself. The little house suddenly seemed too quiet. The toys that once made him happy now looked dull. Even his favorite banana leaf mat didn’t bring comfort.
But then, after a few minutes of crying, curiosity began to peek through his sadness. Chamroeun sniffled, wiped his tiny face with his hand, and looked around. “Maybe I can explore while they’re gone,” his little mind seemed to say.
He tiptoed to the table where his mother usually kept fruits. There was a small bunch of bananas, perfectly ripe. His eyes sparkled. “Just one won’t hurt,” he thought. He peeled it clumsily, got banana all over his hands, and began munching happily. The sweetness cheered him up a little.
After finishing his snack, Chamroeun looked around for more fun. He climbed onto the window frame, hanging upside down, swinging back and forth like a tiny acrobat. He laughed softly to himself, forgetting for a moment that he had been crying.
Then he spotted something shiny — his father’s metal bowl used for washing fruit. The sunlight reflected on it, and Chamroeun was fascinated. He grabbed it and looked inside. For a moment, he saw his own reflection staring back — a tiny face with messy fur and big round eyes.
He tilted his head. The reflection tilted too. He made a silly face. The reflection copied. Suddenly, he giggled! It was the first real laugh since his parents left.
But his laughter was short-lived — a sudden sound outside startled him. A squirrel dashed across the roof, causing a few leaves to fall. Chamroeun froze, wide-eyed. His heart thumped fast. “Is that Mom? Dad?” he thought. He ran outside, hoping to see them, but the path was still empty.
He let out another loud scream. “EEEEK! MOMMMM! DADDDD!”
The villagers nearby could hear him. Some even peeked over the fence and smiled kindly. “Poor little one,” one of them said, “he misses his parents.”
An old woman named Srey Neang, who often fed the monkeys, came closer. She had a basket of mangos in her hand. “Chamroeun, don’t cry,” she said softly, offering him a mango slice.
Chamroeun sniffed the air, curious but cautious. Slowly, he took the piece, licked it, then took a small bite. The sweet taste soothed him again. He sat down beside the woman, munching quietly. She smiled, patting his tiny head.
After eating, Chamroeun looked toward the road again. The world seemed calmer now. The butterflies danced above the grass, and the sound of the stream nearby whispered peacefully. For a moment, he just sat there, watching everything — the gentle swaying of leaves, the sparkle of sunlight through the trees.
And then… he heard it.
Soft footsteps. Familiar voices.
“Mama?” he whispered.
A second later, his mother and father appeared at the gate, carrying baskets full of fruit. The moment he saw them, Chamroeun squealed in joy. He ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, jumped into his mother’s arms, and hugged her tightly.
Lina laughed, hugging him back. “Oh, my baby! Were you a good boy?”
Chamroeun squeaked, burying his face in her chest, refusing to let go. His father smiled and gave him a ripe banana. “We brought your favorite,” Rith said, rubbing his little head.
Chamroeun grabbed it eagerly, but instead of eating right away, he pressed it against his dad’s hand — as if sharing. His parents exchanged a warm glance. Even though he had cried loudly and screamed the whole morning, his heart was pure and loving.
After they all settled down, Lina held Chamroeun close and rocked him gently. “See? We always come back,” she whispered. “You don’t have to be afraid.”
Chamroeun made a soft cooing sound, his eyes half-closed. He felt safe again.
The family spent the rest of the day together. They ate fruit, played under the trees, and watched the sun dip low across the sky. When night came, Chamroeun lay curled between his parents, tail tucked, breathing softly.
That night, before he drifted off to sleep, he remembered how scared he had been earlier — how lonely it felt when they were gone. But now, with his mother’s gentle touch and his father’s steady warmth, everything felt right again.
The stars twinkled above, and a cool breeze swept through the forest. Chamroeun’s eyelids fluttered as he snuggled deeper. His tiny lips curled into a sleepy smile, and he whispered a soft sound — something between a sigh and a giggle.
Tomorrow, he knew, his parents might go to the market again. But next time, maybe he wouldn’t scream as loudly. Maybe he’d wait patiently, knowing they would always return.
And somewhere in the quiet of the night, the forest seemed to hum softly — the sound of a little monkey’s heart finally at peace.
Chamroeun’s loud screams that morning had turned into laughter by nightfall — a reminder that love always comes back home. 💞🐒
