Deep in the lush heart of a tropical jungle, where birds chirped sweet melodies and leaves whispered in the wind, a newborn baby monkey named Miko had just opened his eyes to the world. His tiny fingers gripped his mother’s fur as she cradled him gently in the crook of her arm, high in the branches of a giant banyan tree. Miko was only a few days old, but his bright eyes gleamed with curiosity.
Unlike his siblings who preferred to nap, Miko was restless. Every sound, every flutter of wings, and every movement in the treetops made him eager to explore. But more than anything, Miko was fascinated by something he had seen far below the trees—stones. Smooth, sun-warmed stones lined the riverbank near their tree. While the other monkeys leaped from branch to branch, Miko dreamed of standing on those cool, hard stones and feeling them beneath his little feet.
“Too soon,” his mother would say whenever Miko reached out toward the lower branches. “You’re not ready.”
But Miko couldn’t help himself. He imagined what the stones would feel like—warm from the sun, maybe a little rough, solid and strong beneath him. It wasn’t like the soft sway of tree branches or the leafy cushions of the canopy. No, the stones were different. They were earth, grounded, steady. And he wanted to touch that world, even if just for a moment.
One afternoon, while his family napped, Miko wriggled free from his mother’s arms. His little limbs trembled, but his heart beat with excitement. Slowly, carefully, he climbed down. Each step felt like a victory. The bark scratched at his hands, but he didn’t stop.
The jungle was alive around him—crickets chirped, frogs croaked, and the river babbled softly. Finally, Miko reached the forest floor. The air smelled different down here—earthy and rich. The river was just a few hops away. He saw the stones now, glinting in patches of sunlight.
With a determined grunt, Miko toddled over. His feet touched the first stone. It was warm, just like he imagined. He stood, wobbly but proud. The feeling was magical. The hardness of the stone underfoot made him feel strong, as though he had achieved something far beyond his tiny size.
But suddenly, a rustle in the bushes startled him. A snake slithered out, curious and silent. Miko froze. Then came a loud screech from above—his mother. In a flash, she swooped down, grabbing Miko and whisking him back up into the safety of the trees.
She held him tight, scolding gently. “You are brave, little one,” she said softly, “but even the strongest must learn when to wait.”
Back in the safety of her arms, Miko looked down at the stones one more time. He smiled, not out of disappointment, but with pride. He had walked on the stone. Not for long, but enough to know he could. And someday, he would again—stronger, faster, and ready.
