We’ve had a lot of rain over the past few days, and the tree frogs are keen to mate. I love their calls in the night. I don’t know why. The sound reminds me of those battery-operated toy puppies that used to hop and chirp outside the Kay Bee toy store at the mall. It should be annoying, but somehow, the optimism of life calling out to life heartens me—especially when I think of their small, glossy bodies, as perfect and fragile as if molded and glazed in porcelain. I think of that vulnerability, that imperative to raise their voices in the dark, to be heard, no matter the risk, and I realize that what I am hearing, what is resonating in my heart, is the sound of hope.