Easter Bunny Reflections
Easter happened one week ago with particularly cold, blustery weather. Our next-door neighbors rallied, nevertheless. Three generations shared games outdoors. Bundled up in coats, little girls ran with a big neon egg. Their pastel dress hems flapped in the wind.
Indoors, candy-filled baskets delivered by the Easter Bunny undoubtedly lined the hearth.
Easter, beyond the religious events, is typically about children. Excitement. Joy.
Years ago I volunteered in a senior retirement village on the assisted living floor. There I discovered a bunny craft project that brought the house down, so to speak. Even the most reticent, reclusive residents rallied for this one. They’d roll by in their wheel chairs, pretending not to care as they glanced through the window at those of us assembled at the long tables.
Pretty soon they’d roll by again–more slowly, stopping to watch us attaching cotton balls, cutting ribbons, gluing bobbly eyes, and fluffing ears. Before long, they joined in. Our group expanded from six to thirty-six.
It was all about the bunnies.
Now I volunteer in a program that provides visiting friends to those who are mostly housebound and alone. My assigned friend his limited use of her limbs and walks with some difficulty. Mostly we talk about whatever her news might be, her cat, and holiday decorations which she manages to display despite her limits.
I showed up before Easter with a bag of supplies and announced we’d be doing some crafting at the kitchen table. She seemed reluctant but agreed. I pulled out a white washcloth and began rolling. “You’re making a rabbit,” she said calmly, as I began doubling it up with a rubber band. I nodded my head.
Then I emptied the contents of my bag. She leaned forward curiously as I laid out the eyes and tails. When I unspooled the ribbon and told her to choose a nose, she smiled brightly.
I applied glue dots and she secured her choices, even though it took a while for her to settle on a red nose. (The blue was tempting.) “Isn’t he cute!” she announced.
“Still lacking something for an Easter bunny,” I said. She looked quizzically at me.
I pulled a chocolate egg from my purse and placed it in the curve of his body. She laughed.
Noticing my bundle of remaining washcloths, she asked, “Could we make another one? I bet a yellow nose would be cute, too.”
We made four. Each was unique. The ears and face and feature placements always create a slightly different personality. When I explained pastel washcloths produced even more magical rabbits, not to mention using varying ribbon colors, her mouth dropped opened as she visualized the possibilities.
“Next year,” I said. “We’ll plan for it.” As I left, she chattered away about blue ones, pink ones…
Our visit that day was twice as long as usual. Around her kitchen table, she and I cemented our connection beyond polite conversation. We created magic.
Where the Easter bunny is concerned, excitement and joy are ageless.
