PATIENCE

My most pressing concern this morning is the small frog captured under the glass part of Rachel’s smoothie maker beside the radiator in the kitchen. It all started a few nights ago, when I was sitting at the kitchen table and just glanced into the hallway. There he was looking at the washing machine. I freaked of course, frozen to the spot at first and then sprang into action, looking in the saucepan drawer for the glass bowl to put over his head and stop him in his tracks, but when I resurfaced he was gone. 

Where? Behind the washing machine I bet, where he can dream of marshy ponds and such. What kills me about frogs is that they just don’t even care if you are around. They haven’t got the decency of mice to wait until it’s quiet. They have no emotional intelligence. They just appear out of nowhere and most importantly of all can hop and make sudden movements, their clever little piercing eyes sussing out situations, eying you up wondering how they can outsmart you, dancing and buck leaping randomly around the place, wild and free, indifferent to everyone around them, a hated visitor from childhood. A visitor that reminds you of cold wet summers feeling secure when they were just frog spawn and tadpoles, but then seeing them suddenly leaping into their new selves, free to explore and enjoy their new bodies. To remind you that you have to cope with all these emergencies on your own, to protect your family, standing alone on the battlefield, your children behind you, standing up to bullying teachers, friends who will lead them astray, people who are trying to take advantage of them, of you, of your situation, always on the lookout, dancing between giving them and you a fun time and protecting your fragile family structure.

Back to the imprisoned frog. I don’t know much about frogs but I think he has changed colour since he was deprived of air. Should I google it? Do you think God has sent him to me to conquer my fear of frogs? I don’t want to go near it, but I don’t want it to have a slow death under a glass container either. I will have another cup of tea whilst I think about it. God, isn’t it great to be alone too. To have the peace and joy of accounting to no one. To not have to explain what you are doing, why you are doing it. Divorce is a gift from God. God says, This is between you and Me and Me and you. Go now, have Peace, enjoy your life. Enjoy your children. Have new adventures. Grow and prosper, be successful, take a few risks. Stray outside of your comfort zone. Savour the little things. The joy of being in this world, the good, the bad, the indifferent. Embrace it all. 

Getting used to the situation now. Logical thinking coming into play. Watching the frog like a chameleon change shape. Tiny one minute, ten foot tall the next as he stretches his legs, his survival mechanisms also coming into play. How can I get out of this situation and to freedom? I slowly push a thin chopping board halfway under the glass container. He retreats to the other corner, unused to and unwilling to take on a new surface. I put the washing on the line while I am awaiting. Send some emails, safe in the other room, away from thoughts of his distress. Why do I put my own feelings into dogs, cats, trapped frogs?

I return to the scene. One leg is resting on the chopping board. I say, This is it. No going back now, as I firmly push the rest of it under the container and out the other side. He adjusts to accommodate it. I let him settle for a bit and then gradually guide the chopping board along the kitchen floor, careful as I manoeuvre it over the spaces between the tiles. Out the door and slowly along the hall. The chopping board, the glass with the frog intact and me, almost pals now as freedom is in sight. Feeling more hopeful, just another little bit. Patience can bring a snail to Jerusalem, or something like that. Feeling energized, on the edge of success. One last problem to be overcome. How to get the loaded gun over the rim of the back door frame. What if the glass moves and the frog escapes back into the house?  A solution presents itself. It will be easier to accomplish if I can’t see him moving. I throw my neon cycling vest over the cargo, scoop the whole lot up and throw everything into the corner of the flower bed on the little lawn. I dance away, ecstatic at my success.

The rest of the day belongs to me alone.