As someone who is utterly obsessed with time, I can’t help seeing in the ever increasing signs of impending spring not just a reason for rejoice at nature’s rebirth but also a cause of reflection and melancholy at life’s passing. For, you see, the flowers, and the birds, and the bees that bring joy to our hearts are not the same, although they might appear to be, and we certainly are not – we are one winter older… Oh, how I wish I could regain, if only for a singular moment, a pair of child’s eyes through which to see the world.
Paradoxically, I feel at the same time paralysed and restless, and thus I’m not able to do much, if anything. If I write at one of my stories, I can’t master any discipline and jump from one scene to another in an almost random manner. If I read blogs, I often don’t have the patience to write a comment. Please, bear with me… I’m still here.
Among other books (I always read several at a time), I’m reading one, which I will not name, that amazes me with the negligence of the writing. It’s too bad because the idea of the story is very interesting and it could’ve been a good book. How is it, I wonder, that such books are published to the detriment of other, much better works?
I’m quite worried about my older daughter who, more than a month after the gastro-intestinal virus that had hit all of us, is still accusing permanent nausea and stomach pain. The doctors have still to find a cause and a remedy for this. But the nervous energy involved is tremendous and debilitating.
On a lighter note, about three weeks ago, my younger daughter and I found a domestic rabbit in the parking lot of her day care. A white California baby bunny who we only noticed because it hopped around among the huge snow mounds. I was very worried about it and wanted to catch it and take it home, only hesitating at the thought of an even more worried owner looking for it. I alerted the good people at the day care and they too showed a lot of concern, the directress especially, a very nice and caring woman. So they caught it the next day (the poor thing had spent the night outside in the freezing cold) and somebody from the day care took it home for a few days. They put ads everywhere hoping they would find the owner but no one came.
My daughter and I wanted her very much and the directress also wanted her very much (it turns out it’s a girl), but after those few days we took her home because that’s how it was decided in the beginning. (Children are so bizarre or so wise… Next to my older daughter’s school, there is a cemetery, hardly noticeable among the lush park-like vegetation. I had no idea my youngest knew what the place was until she told me, with complete serenity, “When the rabbit dies, we’ll bury her here.” I was speechless, I, who don’t want pets because I’m afraid of the pain at their loss, I who cried when a fish died, or a water snail...)
What a sweet, sweet, sweet bunny! We couldn’t keep her. I wish we could’ve kept her! We’ve only had her for three days and I already missed her when we gave her to the directress. Unfortunately, we don’t have a room at home that we could dedicate to her, and to supervise her continuously while she was out of her cage would have meant the end of my already diminutive spare time. But the directress and her daughter wanted to get a rabbit anyway so this one came to them just in time.
She’s doing very well and we are being given updates on her well-being and on her exploits, and very cute pictures, of which I share this one with you…