A Gift
Building blocks and bouncy balls, toy soldiers and trains, board games, books, and puzzles, and endless stuffed animals, all lined the brightly lit shelves. Children of all ages and species were gathered at the bins and racks of candy at the ends of every aisle. But one little dark green frog walked past the candy, past the video games, the trains and the trucks. He knew what he wanted to see, and it was in the very back of the store. Actually, it wasn’t really even a part of the toy store, but it was in the same building, separated only by a picket fence that looked terribly out of place. The little frog walked around the fence and looked at this second store. Hardly anyone ever came here.
The young man on a stool behind the counter had taken a guitar down from the wall, and he was playing it. He looked up at the little frog and smiled. “Hey,” he said. He stopped playing. “You need help with anything?”
“No thank you,” the little frog said. “I just like to look.”
“That’s cool,” the young man said. “Well feel free to play around with stuff, I mean that’s what it’s made for. Lemme know if you can’t reach anything, all right?”
“Sure,” the little frog said. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” the young man said. “I’m Eli, by the way.”
“Hi Eli,” the little frog said. “I’m Robin.”
“Nice to meet you, Robin.” Eli went back to playing the guitar.
Robin started with a keyboard. He tapped shyly at the keys. He found a few notes that harmonized with Eli’s guitar, and played them when he thought it sounded nice. Then he moved on.
He picked up a small fiddle and ran his fingers along the strings, but it was as big as he was, so he set it down. He plucked at the strings of a harp and looked up at the instruments he couldn’t reach- guitars, banjos, and ukuleles. Then he moved on.
He tapped on drums and bells and triangles, played with glockenspiels, maracas, and chimes. He looked over trumpets and trombones. He lifted a bugle and tried to play it, without success. Then he moved on.
The saxophones and clarinets were too big for him to play. He picked up a piccolo, carefully placed his fingers over the holes, lifted it to his mouth, and blew softly. He didn’t get a note- all he heard was air. He blew harder, and got a loud squeak. He readjusted his fingers again and blew a little softer. Still, he got a squeak. He looked at the piccolo and sighed. He blew another squeak.
Suddenly there was a hand beside him. “Here,” Eli said, offering him a harmonica. “This might be more your style.”
“Thanks,” Robin said. He put the piccolo back, picked up the harmonica, and gave it a loud blast.
Eli chuckled. “Not so hard, you’ll hurt your lungs or something,” he said. He squatted down to the little frog’s level. “Blow a little softer; don’t over exert when you don’t have to.”
Robin tired again. This time it sounded good.
“There you go,” Eli said. “Now you got it. Try to figure out the notes.”
Robin sat down and carefully blew through each hole, listening to the slight differences in each one. After playing up and down the notes several times, he tried a simple song.
Eli recognized it fairly quickly. He took the guitar down from the wall again and played along, waiting patiently when Robin couldn’t find the right note. “That’s pretty good,” he said when they finished.
Robin shrugged. “It’s just
Mary Had a Little Lamb,” he said.
“Yeah, but that’s still more than some people can play,” Eli said. He sat down on the floor. “You’re pretty good with music. You around it a lot?”
“Most of the time,” Robin said. “Just about everyone I live with does something with music. We’ve got guitars and pianos and a saxophone and trumpets and drums and my uncle plays a banjo and there’s a whole bunch of other instruments, and we all sing a lot, too!”
“Geez,” Eli said, “Sounds like a crazy house! No wonder you’ve got an ear for music.”
“Well I would,” Robin said, “But I’m a frog.”
“What’s that got to do with it?” Eli asked.
“Frogs don’t have ears,” Robin said.
Eli laughed. “Wow,” he said. “Seriously though, that’s one crazy house, with all those instruments? Man. How do your parents deal with that?”
“Well, they... They don’t.” Robin looked at the harmonica in his hands. “I don’t live with my parents,” he said.
“Oh really?” Eli said. “How come?”
Robin turned the harmonica over in his hands. “It’s kind of complicated,” he said.
“Oh,” Eli said. “Well that’s cool, I don’t live with my parents, either. Haven’t since I was three.”
Robin looked up. “Really?”
“Yup,” Eli said. He plucked at the guitar strings. “I’m stuck with my grandma. I mean she’s nice and all, but man! I’m eighteen, I don’t need help brushing my own teeth!”
Robin laughed. “I don’t have to brush my teeth,” he said. “I’m a frog.”
Eli stopped playing. “Lemme guess,” he said, “No teeth?”
Robin opened his mouth wide. “Ahhhh.”
Eli laughed. “Lucky you. No dentist either, then.” He strummed at the guitar.
“You play that really well,” Robin said.
“Thanks,” Eli said. “Kinda wish I could afford to buy it.”
“But you can’t?” Robin asked.
Eli shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “Not yet, anyway. I’m working for it, though.”
Robin nodded. He put the harmonica to his mouth, reminded himself of the notes, and slowly played a song that he knew very well. Eli listened carefully to Robin’s song and played a little accompaniment.
An older, lighter frog with a gray coat folded over his arm recognized the song and slowly approached the picket fence from the toy store side. He smiled, walked around the fence, and stood just far enough back that neither the little frog nor the young man could see him.
When the song was over, the older frog quietly applauded. Robin and Eli looked up. “Oh, hi Uncle Kermit,” Robin said.
Kermit the Frog came and sat down between his nephew and the young man. “I kinda thought you’d be back here,” he said with a smile. “Found a harmonica, huh?”
Robin looked down at the harmonica in his hands, then looked hopefully up at his uncle. “May I please have it, Uncle Kermit?” he asked quietly.
Kermit shook his head. “Maybe next time, Robin,” he said. “But we’ve gotta get back to the theater. Remember, you’ve got a big part in the show this week.”
Robin tried to hide a frown. “Okay,” he said. He climbed to his feet and handed the harmonica back to the young man. “Thanks Eli,” he said.
“No problem,” Eli said. He carefully used the guitar as a crutch and pulled himself to his feet.
Kermit was already standing. “Robin, your dad’s waiting for you by the trains,” he said.
“Okay,” Robin said, and he eagerly hopped off to find his father.
Kermit thoughtfully watched him go, then turned to the young man. “How much for the harmonica?” he asked quietly.
“Five bucks,” Eli said.
“I’ll take it,” Kermit said.
Eli smiled and slowly walked behind the counter to ring the harmonica up. “For his birthday, or something?”
“Well,” Kermit shrugged, “I just have a feeling he’ll be a little more blue than green when his dad goes back to the swamp later today.” He paid for the harmonica and slipped it into his coat pocket.
“You’re a good man, sir,” Eli said as he counted out the change. “Well- a good frog, that is.” He pushed the change across the counter. “Have a good day, sir,” he said, honestly meaning it.
“You too,” Kermit said, also sincere. He tucked the change into his coat pocket, walked around the picket fence, and disappeared into the toy store.
Eli grunted as he lifted himself back onto the stool. He gently removed his prosthetic leg and massaged what remained of his upper thigh, wondering if either frog had noticed his disability. He nodded to himself. It felt good to be treated like a person.
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