A Note on Frog Spirits

George and I moved to Texas last week, and on our new walking route in downtown Bryan, we noticed a flattened dead frog. I thought this was funny. Symbolic. George thought this was funny, too, but sometimes he doesn't put that much weight on metaphors. For example, he kept three unusable laptops in his car trunk for the last 20 years, because he didn't know how to recycle them. We brought them to an Apple store in Tucson where the hard drives would be wiped, and the hardware properly disposed. I thought this really meant something. My nonfiction brain thought this action said something about memories and stories and baggage—the things we keep in our trunks. George didn't think it meant anything; but he maybe did weeks later, when he accidentally went over a curb and cracked his transmission casing, rendering his car unusable. “It's the frog spirits,” he said. “They don't want me to leave easy.”

I’ll believe in any sort of “woo” thing. I think magic makes life more fun. So, when I heard of the frog spirits in Alamosa, I took them seriously. I don't know the origin of the frog spirits. The people from The Valley could have made up this tale. In describing this to you, I will likely get the details of the frog spirits and the lore around them wrong. But this is what I believed. And what we believe is often most true to us.

Supposedly, the San Luis Valley was once a lake within the Sangre de Cristo Mountain range, with many frogs living in and around the lake. Over time, the lake dried up and the frogs died, leaving behind their spirits. It is believed that the frog spirits bring you to the San Luis Valley to address an aspect of your life that needs work and attention. If you are called to live in The Valley, you must work on healing a deep wound or learn a lesson. The frog spirits will release you when you have properly healed.

This may all be a bunch of nonsense. But there's also an idea of a “valley curse,” where anyone born in The Valley can never leave The Valley. I heard once a brief story about war and healing during wartime on Mount Blanca. The frog card in my Wild Unknown Animal Spirit deck represents clearing, cleansing, and healing. It says, “this card serves as a reminder that water helps us cleanse, forgive, and release.” Either way, these are the stories we tell ourselves, and stories help us create meaning.

George and I tried to leave for three years. We both applied to jobs or fellowships. I knew in our first year of attempts it wouldn't work. I'd been called to The Valley, too. I had things to work on. The second year George got interviews and I dove deep into revising my book. I thought if I could develop the book into a solid draft, I could leave. I said we had to create a farewell ritual, which in its early stages involved Bird scooters, nice tequila, and cap guns. Before the third year I told George we had to write letters to the frog spirits explaining what we have worked on, offer them gratitude, and express what we will continue to focus on and nourish once released from The Valley. We didn't share our letters with each other, but we brought them to the river and fed them to the frog spirits.

In this third round, George got a juicy job offer from A&M, where they speak the phrase, “Gig Em, Aggies.” Apparently, this phrase is about farmers hunting horned frogs. In this third round, I also finished a significant revision on my book. Once we knew we were officially moving, we performed our farewell ritual. We called the ritual “bang bang.”

We planned a bike route stopping at each of our friends’ houses. We gave them shot glasses filled with the nice tequila. George and I held their hands, and George said, “this is our Bang Bang and we hope you get your Bang Bang.” We swallowed tastes of tequila together and shot the cap guns in the air. The tequila tasted like wood. Our friends with bikes peddled along with us. Eventually, we ended up with a bike crew of five and others followed us through town in their cars. It lightly rained while we did this. The gift of water and cleansing from the frogs.

I resented Alamosa most days I lived there. There wasn't an art scene. No local literary readings. There wasn't a Target. The Walmart felt like the apocalypse. But it did offer me healing through writing. It offered me friendship and a grounded relationship. It gave me quiet. A healing silence.

I used to drive outside of town along country roads to the middle of nowhere. I drove and thought about my writing. Reflected on life. Released certain expectations. Often, I surrendered on that drive. One of my last days there, I drove the route again knowing it would be my last. It looked the same apart from one tree. The tree in my first year there had leaves that fell early on in the fall. On this drive, just a few days ago, the tree had no leaves in the dead of summer. I was struck by this. I knew there was nothing else for me here. Despite my resentments, my heart softened for Alamosa and The Valley. I worried if I would be okay elsewhere. Without the frog spirits nurturing me, would I lose focus on what matters? But I know magic, real or not real, there are times for rest and times for movement. I felt grateful to Alamosa, and slightly sad, but not because I was leaving the town. I was sad because I understood time passes. And places that once tasted like bitter medicine can turn sweet, but only when you leave them.