My first step of the day is lowering my gaze three feet down and inspecting the three holes of the protruding PVC pipe for frogs.
I’d prepared myself for only vacancies and was already partially regretting moving the frog condo from the “hopping good” spot where it once sat. So shoot me to the moon! The chest tension vanished as a lime-green throat croaker met my eyes.
I slipped the good omen into my pocket and never looked back. The frog had spoken. The universe had submitted its forecast. A good day was officially scheduled.
Home run after home run came my way. Evelyn and Emma’s elevated emotional states and conflict were met with listening, space, and solutions. A grocery run slotted into the perfect opening. I somehow managed the miracle of preparing multiple dinner dishes across multiple surfaces, each one receiving attention at exactly the right time.
Now, in the quiet of evening, with only insects humming and the occasional chirp of a female cardinal, I sit in that space just after sunset—the last exhale before darkness settles.
The rational part of me knows the frog did not orchestrate my emotional regulation, grocery timing, or stove-top coordination, but I would like to present the evidence that the frog has not been ruled out.
Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe I woke up with a lighter heart because I knew Paul and Reid were coming. Maybe I feel at ease because of how close I feel to Dave.
Whatever it is, you better believe tomorrow morning, I’ll be checking the frog holes again.
Love, Jaclynn