The Frog Pond

Image of a frog in a pond.The rain’s moisture seeps into my car, smelling like the pond where my brother and I hopped across rocks, catching frogs to show to each other and then release. We marveled in their throats expanding, their long legs, but not at our own invincibility. We just were. My brother leading and I following, no matter the path.

When we now speak across distance and all the years, we don’t quite connect. Still, with the smell of childhood blanketing me, the scraggly girl and the lean boy return, leaping across obstacles together. The downpour continues, and I can’t see what’s ahead.


Abby Manzella is the author of Migrating Fictions: Gender, Race, and Citizenship in U.S. Internal Displacements, winner of the Society for the Study of American Women Writers Book Award. She has published with journals such as The Threepenny Review, Catapult, Colorado Review, Bureau Dispatch, trampset, and Pleiades (forthcoming).

Art Credit: Mark Robinson

(with minor edits)

One Response to “The Frog Pond”

  1. Rosanne Trost says:

    A beautiful memory.

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