Long back. Before there were human. There lived a frog. In Squamish. Canada. By the Sea to Sky route. The frog was no ordinary. He was. A wise frog. And a respected one.

One day. A young frog came. And said “Master. Can I climb the mountains?”. The wise frog said. “Sure. Your mountain is your mountain. Be determined. And start. Today. For tomorrow. May never come.”

The young frog leapt. High into the sky. In joy. And he started. His journey. From where he fell.

He never heard. The wise frog’s last piece. Advise. “Return. Before winter”.

Winter came. The mountains froze. The wise frog. Waited. At the base. For the young to return. One winter. Then another. Another. Another. And another.

The wise waited. The young never returned. Till one day. The wise turned to stone. In grief. Staring. At the mountains.

For eternity.


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