Esmeralda [♀] .&&. Iseul [♀]
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I remember the first time I met you with alarming clarity.
It was in the spring, on a humid day that hummed with imminent rain- I was twelve and wearing my rain clothes, yellow rubber boots and yellow raincoat, yellow umbrella in hand. I was wandering around the swamp that made up a good portion of my yard, and as I recall, the swamp was all there was to play in. There were no towns, no villages or cities for miles in any direction- my father brought me food when he visited, enough to last until his next arrival. I never figured out exactily what he did. I suppose it's of little importance now.
Spring has always made me a little wistful, a little romantic- and every year, starting from the age of six, I made a resolve to kiss a frog on a rainy afternoon. Frogs wern't uncommon to such a swampy place, and I was well familiar with them; I started the tradition soon after my mother's death, because she read me the story of the Frog Prince at every opportunity she could find or make. At first, I made faces when the princess kissed the frog, but I now realized I'd only done so because it made my mother laugh. I never really minded frogs, although I did feel a bit foolish when kissing them, which is why it never went any further.
But that spring, I found something a little more in that anual kiss than just slimy skin and embarrassment. I found you.
The toad was reddish, or perhaps a bit more brown, warty and its eyes didn't seem to blink simultaneously. But to my twelve-year-old self, it was the coolest thing I had ever seen. It was perhaps the size of my head, and to this day, I have never seen another toad the size of it. It was sitting on a lilypad that was partially sunken due to its weight.
I kneeled down in the muddy bank, dirtying my knees, and peered at it with a blank expression. It croaked at me, and the way its throat expanded took me by surprise. But I giggled and smiled- and felt the light raindrops begin to patter off my head and shoulders. It wasn't a heavy rain- more of a light mist, really, but I unfurled my yellow umbrella anyway, because I liked it.
The toad was still sitting there afterwords- after I had erected an impromptu umbrella fort from some foliage and the slope of the bank. I returned to staring at it.
After a few more moments, I shrugged and thought, why not? And I leaned over as far as I could to try and reach it with my lips. I nearly fell in, but it was just close enough for me to peck its head, just as slimy and gross as all the others. To no one's surprise, it did
not turn into a prince right before my eyes. Instead it simply accepted the kiss with polite grace and continued to stare into space.
Feeling as oddly disappointed as every year, I just sighed and crawled back under my umbrella shelter. I don't know why I felt so frustrated every time this silly little tale didn't come true- I didn't even want a prince. I just wanted to believe in a little magic, I suppose.
But then I heard something in the bushes, a little ways across from where I sat. It sounded human- light giggling, then a stumble, a tiny cry of ‘woah’ and some shuffling. Rigid with anticipation and tinges of fear, I reached for the hunting knife strapped to my ankle, the one father always told me to carry. I don't even know what I would have done with it, but it hardly mattered, because when I called “Who's there?” You tumbled out of the bushes, and you were the most unthreatening thing I had ever seen in my entire twelve years.
Your hair was short and black; windswept but straight, despite the humidity. I have never been quite so lucky, myself. You wore the clothes of a girl low on her money, a short, practical tan dress that did nothing at all for your complexion. Your eyes were dull in colour, unremarkably muddy, but they were very wide and pretty. Your glasses were askew, and you looked at me with the oddest, most open expression I had ever seen on a human being. You were nine.
I quickly moved my hand away from the knife, not wanting to startle you, but truth be told I was rather shaken. You were the first human I had ever come in contact with aside from my family, and even that was inconsistent at best. I suddenly felt very self-conscious about my muddy arms, knees and hands- and more than that, you had seen me doing something so ridiculous-!
I stood, and then crouched, and then sat back down, because you we obviously very flustered at being caught and I was about two heads taller than you at the time. The last thing I wanted was to scare you away. So instead I inquired, in my most polite manner, your name and what you were doing here.
“Pray tell, my dear,” I said, in a mimicry of my mother's voice, “what art thou doing here, spying so incru- incar- in...”
My tounge was tied on the word- incredulously, it was- and it was just as well, as that wasn't even the proper word to be using. But it was long and sounded sophisticated, and I wanted to impress you.
Before I could recover from my blunder, you apparently lost the doe-eyed look I had thus far began to associate with you. Your face broke out into a wide, buck-toothed grin and you giggled at me, curling your bare toes into the mud with childish glee. I remember being quite frustrated, angry and embarrassed, and so I raised my voice to you.
“Well? You heard me! Who are you, and what are you doing here?” All attempts at Old English had been abandoned, and the smile was wiped off your face in seconds. You looked bashful and timid.
“'M... 'm sorry, I dinna' mean ta', um,” you had a thicker accent when you were younger, some strange mix of Scottish and your native Korean, and I miss it slightly. “I mean I- I was only jus' lookin' 'round and found this place annI, I jus' couldn' help it, ya' know? I just, I mean I, I saw ya' kissin' that froggy an' it...” And here you devolved into giggling again.
I waved you off, cheeks red. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the toad staring at the two of us. I held my muddy hand out to you.
“What... Whatever, would you like to, er, come over here? There's less, um...” There wasn't less mud. But I had to come up with something to bargain with, otherwise I might never see you again! So I thought on my feet. “There's more yellow. Lots of it. Yellow everywhere. And it keeps the rain off!”
The drizzle, that was more of a cloud, actually died off nearly ten minutes ago, but this seemed to impress you anyway. You beamed at me and wiggled your feet in the mud. “CannI kiss tha' froggy, too?” You asked.
I quirked my eyebrows at you, or at least tried to, because I thought it was mature. Inside I was dancing a little. “I suppose so,” I said; and like a wound-up, spring-loaded toy, you clambered over to my umbrella fort.
It was the start of a beautiful, froggy friendship.
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