Ever seen a frog on a beach? Me neither. Until this day last week that we saw this little fella hopping around. I was a little worried, because it seemed strange. But then I thought, probably I have looked out of place a lot of places I go, perhaps I should leave the poor guy alone.
Until I got home and looked up salt water and frogs. Frogs should not be on beaches according to Mr Google. So how did he get here and what happened to him? Unfortunately, I cannot answer either question and I don't even know if he is ok.
Oh life, the predicaments. It's like the equivalent of waking up to find you have to figure out how to live in hot lava. No idea how you got there, can't see your way out, here you are.
I don't think it's going to go well for me in the hot lava or for the frog in the salt water. I'm sorry I didn't know little guy, I would have attempted a rescue.
It's all so tragic, this life. So temporary and so uncertain. I want to squeeze all my moments like they are precious, but then I find myself complaining about something stupid. Or being annoyed at myself because I enjoyed my beverages a little too heartily. Or any other non appreciative things I do on a daily basis.
I was going to be all preachy and say let's be all thankful and be better at moment squeezing, but I really don't want to. I'm no good at it anyway. Instead I'm going to imagine that this frog did not end in tragedy at all. This fella lived in the bog nearby and always imagined a sea voyage. His life had been long and it was nearing his time. He didn't want his end to be in the tummy of his lifelong enemy, the bog muskrat, and instead fancied going out as a pirate on the high seas of the Northumberland. Last thing you hear is him croaking along singing pirate songs and chuckling. What a life. Better? Let's just go with it.