I awake and stumble past a shelf of knick-knacks en route to the bathroom. I pull off two ceramic frogs and carry them along with me. In the bathroom, I study them and wonder of how I came about them. I stand in front of the mirror, modeling them, one on each shoulder. I can tell that having just awoken plays a large part in these antics, but continue with the fresh humor. I catch the frogs as they tumble from my frame and I smile, because I've always seemed to be good at catching frogs. Now I start to think of my childhood and all of the creatures I had claimed and captured as my own. I try to remember each, of it's life and it's demise. Saddened by the few I can remember, I decide to give proper respect to the lives they've lived. I hastily exit the bathroom and ready myself for the day. Just before running out the door, I press the pair of ceramic frogs against my cheeks, so as to show my appreciation for the small, mystifyingly wonderful animals of the world. I step out of the house and am almost instantly ridiculed and made fun of because of the impressions of the frogs.
return to basic beauty