In life, some moments leave deep imprints on our hearts—not because of what we did, but because of what we couldn’t do.
Today, watching sweet baby David—a tiny, vulnerable monkey—was one of those moments. His big, innocent eyes, filled with longing and quiet confusion, reached into my soul. He didn’t speak, yet his every movement, every glance, every subtle gesture cried out louder than any scream.
David is still so small, so fragile, so unaware of the unfairness life can bring. Today, he sat quietly on his own, unsure and seemingly waiting… hoping that someone—anyone—might come close. Someone who might care. And I did care. Deeply. Every part of me wanted to rush over, pick him up, and offer him comfort and safety. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t allowed. That’s the rule.
It shattered my heart. To see a creature so defenseless, aching for warmth and connection, and yet unable to receive it—it left me feeling helpless. Not because I lacked love to give, but because I was bound by rules I could not break. Rules that exist—for protection, for health, for order—but that today felt cold and unforgiving.
David isn’t just another monkey. There’s something incredibly special about him. The way he curls up when he’s frightened, the hope in his eyes when he looks at people—it touches you, even if you weren’t expecting to care. And that’s what makes it harder. He doesn’t understand why no one reaches out. Why he’s left alone when all he wants is a bit of love. It’s not rejection. It’s just… circumstance.
So I stood there, watching. Hurting. Whispering silent apologies into the air:
“I’m sorry, David. I wish I could hold you. I wish I could let you know you’re not alone.”
But all I could offer was love from afar, hoping somehow—some way—he felt it.
Sometimes, the deepest pain comes not from what we do, but from what we’re unable to do. It’s the moments when love is stifled by limitation, when compassion has no outlet, that leave the deepest scars. Today, my heart carries that scar.
Dear little David, I hope someone soon comes who can hold you. Who will cradle you, protect you, and show you the comfort I couldn’t. You deserve so much more than distance and silence. You deserve love.
And though I couldn’t touch you today—know this:
You were seen.
You were felt.
You are not alone.
