Chapter Nineteen
Robin curled up on Kermit’s bed in a sort of nest he had bunched the blanket into. Kermit sat at the foot of the bed and watched his peaceful slumber for a long time, debating to himself whether he should lock the window or leave it open. Locking it would be safer. But the fresh air from leaving it open would be more like the swamp, and might make Robin more comfortable. On the other hand, with the fresh air would come all sorts of sounds that Robin wasn’t used to, and some of them might scare him. His mind made up, Kermit stood up and locked the window. If nothing else it would give him enough peace of mind to leave the room- though not before giving his nephew a kiss.
He settled onto his couch and started flipping through various reading materials. He skimmed an early draft of the script, grazed over the newspaper, and finally sunk himself into a good book. He was lost somewhere in the world of the author’s brain when-
“AHHHHHHH!”
He hopped to his feet, dropped the book, shot into the bedroom, and snapped the light on.
Robin was sitting in his blanket-nest, wide-eyed, looking around, with tears streaming down his face.
Kermit was instantly at his side. He hugged the little frog. “What happened?” he asked gently.
Robin looked around at the now well-lit, cozy room. “I- I- had a- nightmare,” he sobbed. “There was- this- something, like- I don’t know, a monster, or- a shadow- thing. And it was chasing me, and I fell, and- and I kept falling, and I fell onto a lily pad, and I thought it was safe, but I- it folded up on me, like-“ He held his hands out next to each other, palms up, and folded them up to each other. “Like that. And it was dark, and then I was spinning, and there were all these colors, and then there was this-“
“Really bright light, and then you woke up?” Kermit asked quietly.
Robin’s tears suddenly stopped, and he stared up at his uncle. “Yeah,” he whispered. “How did you know?”
Kermit looked at him with a mix of awe, confusion, and comfort. “Well, I- I’ve had that nightmare, too,” he said.
“Really?” Robin asked. “You have?”
Kermit nodded. “Mm-hm.” He hesitated. “Come here,” he said, lifting the little frog. “I think I know something that’ll make you feel a little better.” He carried his nephew into the living room, set him down on the couch, and, within moments, gave him a mug of something warm.
Robin sniffed at the brown liquid. “What is it?” he asked.
Kermit sat next to him with his own steaming mug. “It’s called hot chocolate,” he said. “Try it. But be careful- as the name implies, it is hot.”
Robin cautiously sipped at it. “That kind of tastes good,” he said.
Kermit smiled. “I thought you’d like it,” he said.
They quietly sat and sipped until their mugs were empty.
“Feel better?” Kermit asked.
“Kind of,” Robin said. He looked down. “I kind of miss the swamp,” he said quietly.
Kermit sighed and looked at his lap. Then he looked at his nephew and put his arm around him. “So do I, Robin,” he said. “So do I.”
Robin looked up to him. “You do?” Kermit nodded. Robin snuggled closer. “What do you miss most?” he asked quietly.
Kermit thought about it. “Evening,” he said after a moment. “Evening and night time.” His mind slunk back to his childhood. “You know… When I was little- I mean, before I left the swamp- Grandma used to sing to us every night, to help us sleep. Sometimes she sang a song about following your star, and sometimes she sang a song about how even though things go wrong, sometimes it’s not as bad the next day. I think that’s what I really miss about the swamp. But that doesn’t happen even when I am there now.”
“But now you sing in the evening,” Robin said.
“That’s true,” Kermit said quietly. “I sing. I sing and play my banjo.” For a moment, they said nothing.
“Mom doesn’t sing,” Robin said.
Kermit looked at him. “She sings sometimes,” he said. He set his empty mug next to him.
“Sometimes,” Robin said. “But she said she can’t remember songs good. She just tells us about them.”
“Mm.” Kermit leaned back against the couch, suddenly realizing that it was very late.
“There was one song…” Robin tried to remember. “She said it was an old swamp song. It had fireflies, I think. And a breeze…”
“Oh,” Kermit said drowsily, “Granny’s lullaby.”
Robin looked up at him, confused. “Granny?”
“My grandma,” Kermit said. “Your dad’s grandma, too. She used to sing it to us sometimes. Gee, I haven’t heard it in years.”
Robin snuggled closer to him. He pulled the little frog into his lap, and tried to remember the old swamp lullaby. Tired as he was, it was easy to sing in the slow, quiet, sleepy way the song required.
“Fireflies are shining now
And the birds are perched up high,
And the grasses sway through the night and day
On a breeze that’s blowing by.
“And there’s tadpoles in the pond tonight,
Like the stars in the shimmery sky,
And all the folks can hear our croaks
On the breeze that’s blowing by.
“And the water rocks us all tonight,
And there’s sleep in every eye,
And we can tell that all is well
From the breeze that’s blowing by.
Breeze that’s blowing by…”
Kermit quietly hummed the melody again and again, just as his grandmother had done many times, many years ago. He did not notice when Robin fell asleep in his lap, or when he himself fell asleep. To the best of his memory, he sat on the couch, humming the lullaby, until it was suddenly morning.
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