A Passenger for the Night

A small carved wooden frog was resting quietly near the fringe of the living room rug under the amber lamplight. I patted its polished back and carefully slipped it over my shoulder, tucking its rounded belly into the knit collar behind my neck. Carrying a little passenger always makes my stride feel steady and proud. Swaying gently from side to side like a boat drifting down a quiet stream, I padded across the warm floorboards toward the low bookshelf. We settled down right against a stack of big books, ready to watch the quiet night roll in.