November 3, 2009

• It All Began With Frogs

  
  October is usually our last month with the frogs. They first appear in late spring; there’s usually that low twang emanating from the pond all night (the Bull’s mating call), and then whoosh! Little froggies are hopping all over the place.

  During the summer, I like to leave our outside light on at night. It attracts the bugs… and they attract the frogs. Sometimes, I’ll open the front door (leaving the screen door closed). Sam and Mikey, our cats, will sit and watch the little frogs jump up onto our screen door, closer and closer to the light, closer and closer to the bugs. There have been times when the cats have jumped in sync with the frogs, front paws clapping together as if catching an insect, too… or perhaps a frog.

  The frog population out front thins in the summer months. Our pond is actually the center of the apartment complex parking lot, so we see squished little green guys all over the place. The frogs get squashed in the grass at night, too, because people walking back and forth to their cars don’t see them hiding in there.

  In September and October, there’s a sudden rise in frog population. Ken and I tiptoe around them, and we always bring out the flashlight when walking on the grass at night. They are happy little guys, hopping around the grass and the fallen leaves.

  Then they’re gone. Poof!

  As Ken and I walked up the leaf-covered hill last night (home from grocery shopping), we talked about the frogs. How we miss them once they are gone, even though, when they are here, we have to step lightly and stuff.

  The conversation pointed me in the direction of a sort of new thought: I’m going to miss this place when we go.

  I never loathed living here. It isn’t perfect or anything: it’s too small, it’s too expensive, we’ve had strange neighbours, this was where we were when we discovered we cannot have children, this is where we almost broke up, and this is where my mother broke her hip…

  But this is also where we moved when Ken got his first big promotion. This is where we lived when Ken proposed to me. This is where we were when we found out that my best friend gave birth to her son.

  All of the gifts from my wedding shower in Wilton were crammed into the living/dining area, and Ken and I laughed as we said in unison: “We’re gonna need a bigger boat!’ (He and I do a lot of Jaws references.)

  This living room is where my younger brother, Tadpole and I stayed up most of the night before my wedding, after the rehearsal dinner (Ken spent that night with a bunch of guys at the hotel. He didn’t want to see me on the day of the wedding until it was time… We are a little bit superstitious about some things.). The next night, I was up all night with my new husband, and again, the living/dining area was stuffed with gifts. I recall that we didn’t care so much about them at the time. We spent that whole week not caring about gifts or thank-you notes or anything wedding- or outside world-related. It was one of the loveliest weeks of my life, and we didn’t even go anywhere.

  This is the place where my mother and I finally became good friends, and I got to see her through her last years.

  That was last year, just before the frogs came back and then went off again, to wherever they go during the cold months of the year. I’ve done almost everything my mother wanted me to do after her parting. There is only one thing left.

  “Live your life, now,” she said. “Take that sweet husband of yours and get the hell out of here!”

  When Ken got his promotion a few months ago and started working at the store in Holyoke, I thought, Okay, we’ll move to Massachusetts, then (It is almost an hour each way!).  We planned on moving at the end of February, when our lease is up (it is too costly to break the lease here. I am still out of work, so we do not have much money.).

  Change of plans: We will be moving to Wisconsin, to be closer to Ken’s family. This isn’t really a new idea; we wanted to move out there years ago. I could not leave my mother back then.

  When I realised that Ken’s latest promotion wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, I brought the subject of moving out to Wisconsin up again. The next day, Ken’s dad, Sam (yeah… my cat is named after his grandpa, sort of) sent us an email saying he would be visiting soon. He came, and we told him we wanted to move out there. He has offered all kinds of support; so has the rest of Ken’s HUGE family.

  I will miss this place. I will miss my friends and of course, I will miss my beach. Once we get back on our financial feet, we’ll plan visits. Until then, I plan on using the phone and email a lot.

  As for my beach? It’s as much a part of me as I am a part of it. It goes wherever I go. I’ll probably take a jar of its sand with me, for good luck, but I think that the beach and I will be all right.
   
  Yep. I’m taking that sweet husband of mine and getting the hell out of here.
   
  I have it on good authority that there are frogs in Wisconsin…

  • 7:00 pm
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