I was always so proud when I could catch the frogs myself. It was difficult because they didn’t often stay in one place long enough to be caught. By the time that I triumphantly held the frog and labeled and called it mine, I was already comfortable in my mindset of possession. I would build a beautiful home with sticks and leaves and walls, and a lid to prevent an escape. What more could any creature want than to be loved and taken care of? To be given a home and to belong to another?  
As a child I remember being told, “you can’t keep a living thing. It has a whole life out there you’re keeping it from,” and the waterworks of tears that followed. “They have everything they need,” I would protest, “It is mine.”
It would take some convincing to finally convince me to let go. With tears falling down my cheeks I would lift the frog out of the home I had made and leave it in a place very different from where I had found it. Nana would explain how the home I made was beautiful, but that it could not be permanent. Living things are meant to be free, not owned. Meant to be loved, not possessed.
I realize now that people are no different. We love to label and possess each other, to create homes we expect to be permanent. I am learning to remember that I can hold another’s heart and know it is not mine. To be happy in a phase of life and know that it is temporary. And when the time comes, some people I love I will have to let go.