Chapter Twenty-One
One Month and Three Weeks Later
July 3, 1971
Kermit and Robin walked hand in hand down the old dirt road. “But I’m gonna come back again, right Uncle Kermit?” Robin asked.
“Of course,” Kermit said. “You’re coming in town when it airs. You know that.”
“Well yeah, but- what about after that? Can I still come and visit you sometimes?” Robin asked.
“Do you
want to visit?” Kermit asked.
“Yeah!” Robin said with a slight hop in his step. “I like it out there. It’s fun!”
“It
is fun,” Kermit said. “I like it, too.”
“So can I come sometimes?” Robin asked.
“Well sure!” Kermit said. “If it’s okay with your parents.”
“Oh boy!” Robin hopped excitedly.
Kermit smiled at him. “Well- here we are!” He led his nephew into the marsh grasses. “HI-HO EVERYONE!”
“UNCLE KERMI!” Dozens of young frogs instantly swarmed them, all shouting. “UNCLE KERMIT! UNCLE KERMIT’S HERE! ROBIN’S BACK! ROBIN! TELL US EVERYTHING, ROBIN!”
Robin stared at the dizzyingly overwhelming mass of his cousins and siblings. He slowly looked up at Kermit in awe. “Uncle Kermit,” he said, “
How do you
do this?”
Kermit was a whirl of words. “I’m not really sure- Hi Trevor! Nice hop, Stacey- terrific, Ken- Nancy, you won? Great! Good to see you, Bill- Yes Joe, I missed you too- that was perfect, George! Yes I’m listening, Emily…”
“ROBIN!”
“DAD!” Robin shot into his father’s arms. “Hi Dad! I missed you! A whole bunch! But it was really fun!”
“I’m glad you enjoyed!” Jimmy hugged his son tight. “I missed you, too. Did Uncle Kermit take good care of you?”
“Yup!”
“I knew he would.”
“And he said I can still visit him sometimes, after the special airs!” Robin suddenly shrank slightly. “If it’s okay with you.” His eyes begged.
Jimmy smiled. “That sounds like a
great idea,” he said.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Three Days Later
July 6, 1971
Kermit sunk into his seat and watched through the train window as Leland slid farther and farther away behind him. Three long, lazy days in the swamp had been a much-needed rest. But now, alone on the train, with his banjo across his lap, he wasn’t sure what to do. It felt like something was missing. Well, not something, but some
one was missing, a little dark green frog with lots of energy, a thousand questions, and infinite patience to listen to whatever Kermit had to say. He sighed and tried to remember what he did when he was alone, before Robin had come. It was awfully boring without anyone to talk to. He didn’t remember being bored.
He gazed out the window at the passing scenery. There was an old high school, a big red barn, a giant oak tree… He suddenly remembered, and instantly wished he hadn’t, because before Robin had come, he had spent his time alone thinking about Ray and Melinda.
He frowned at his banjo.
Don’t think about it, Kermit. If it hurts to think about it, don’t think about it. But once the thought crossed his mind, it overpowered him and absorbed him completely. Even if he tried to just think of the happy times, a biting voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he would never be happy with them again.
Two philosophical men were sitting near by, philosophically having a philosophical conversation. “The mind is a very powerful thing,” one of them said. “It can overcome any obstacle.”
“Yes, but what if the mind
is the obstacle?” the other said. “What if its persistent qualities are working against it?”
“A pervasive thought, you mean?” the first man said. “Then it must be overcome by another pervasive thought. The stronger a thought is, the stronger another thought must be to push it out.”
“Suppose it is not the thought, but the way of thinking…”
Kermit briefly considered the first man’s words. Could one thought push away the other? He needed something very strong… He looked out his window. “Well then,” he quietly said to himself, “I’ll think about Robin.”
Having spent so much time with him, Robin was easy to think about, especially because Kermit had started trying to guess what his next question would be. Although the answers were easy to know, they were hard to explain.
What’s that, Uncle Kermit? What’s that? What does it do? How does it work? What’s a gumball? What’s gum? How do they put the gumballs in there? Where does the coin go? Why are the gumballs different colors? Why aren’t there any brown ones?
Kermit smiled, and wondered what stories Robin would tell of his visit… and how long it would be before he came again.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kermit climbed up the stairs to his apartment, smiling at the middle step. He thought to himself, as Robin always proclaimed,
halfway.
He entered his apartment, set his banjo down, and looked around. Yes, all was well… Now what? What in the world had he ever done without Robin here?
He remembered and, once again, wished he hadn’t. It was too late now.
Ray and Melinda had never even stepped inside this building, but Kermit had come to associate every inch of the apartment with some memory of them, to the point that they might as well have lived there. It was bad enough that he was still using all of their old plates, and cups, and towels, and sheets, and pillows, and the same bookcase, and table, and reading lamp, and floor lamp, and radio. And the knot in the door of the wooden cabinet looked like Ray’s old teddy bear, and when the light hit the curtains right they looked like Melinda’s apron from
Christy’s Bar and Restaurant, and when the hatrack’s shadow hit the corner of that picture…
“Sheesh.” Kermit crossed the room, opened the window, and perched himself on the windowsill. Had it always been like that? Had he spent the two years he had lived in this apartment just wishing he could have them back? He was disappointed to realize that, yes, that was pretty much what he had done. And then Robin had come, and the pain was gone, and now he didn’t want it back.
He turned and looked at his pictures on the opposite wall. They were the only painless part of the apartment, he realized. There were four photographs, arranged in a square. In the lower left-hand corner was a picture of everyone who lived in the swamp, or at least everyone he was related to. Next to it was a picture of everyone on Sesame Street. He frequently re-took the picture, trying in vain to stay current. The picture above it was of every employee of the company- although at the rate they seemed to be growing, it would probably have to be replaced again soon.
The picture in the upper left-hand corner was the only one that was not specific to any location. It was also the only one Kermit knew he would never have to update. It was, quite simply, a picture of himself and Jim Henson.
Kermit decided that he wouldn’t move the pictures, but everything else had to change, and it had to change now. He was sick of the pain, sick and tired of the pain.
He hopped to his feet. If the couch was over there, and the bookcase was over here, the coffee table could go there… and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He took the books off the shelves, the cushions off the couch, the newspapers off the coffee table, and pushed and shoved with all of his might.
Why did furniture have to be so heavy?
After twenty minutes of moving, he stood up and looked around. Was this better? No, it still hurt. Well, if the couch was against
that wall, and the bookshelf was over here… He bent down for some more pushing and shoving.
Fifteen minutes later, he stood up and looked around. No, this hurt, too. Maybe if he put the couch over there, and the bookcase next to it… He wiped his sweat and bent down for some more pushing and shoving.
After another fifteen minutes, he stood up for another look at the room. He quickly realized that it was painfully similar to how they had arranged the furniture in their old one-room apartment. Well maybe if the couch was over there by the window, and the bookcase was on the other wall… He sighed, wiped his sweat, and bent down for some more pushing and shoving.
Twenty-five minutes later, he stood up and looked around. He felt his jaw slowly drop.
The furniture was exactly the way it had been when he started.
He groaned and collapsed in exhausted frustration.
He stayed on the floor for a few minutes before he reluctantly stood up. He needed something to change. A great big change, much bigger than rearranging the furniture. Maybe a coat of paint, some new curtains, new plates… He put the cushions back on the couch.
It wouldn’t work. No coat of paint could cover pain. He knew that. It was decided, then, He
could not stay here. He had to move. But where would he go?
He sat on the couch, flipping through a newspaper absent-mindedly, not really looking at it. He could get another apartment, but something told him it was a bad idea. It would be too painful. What, then?
He glanced at the paper. For sale by owner, two-bedroom ranch house, one bathroom, redecorated kitchen…
He stared at the page. A house. He could buy a house.
He skimmed over the prices listed on the page. They weren’t too terribly expensive. He had plenty of money saved. And he only needed room for himself, and for Robin when he visited.
Maybe this was the change he needed.
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