|I may return as a starfish. Image from starfishministry.com.|
Hence, the bunny rabbit, as I've written here before. Since Dad loved his pet bunny as a boy--and animals of all kinds all his life, having coaxed me as a girl to watch Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom and The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau with him in the Little Room--it was perfectly natural to assume that the bunnies who suddenly populated our neighborhood after his death were Dad, back to visit and check up on us. Sis started looking for bunnies in Connecticut, too. And when H. or Fig come in the door, having seen one out in the front grass, they'll report that Grandpa was outside. It's fitting, because the rabbits are spry, wise and watchful, and also protective of their young.
Call us crazy; that's okay. We'll even say Hi, Grandpa to a rabbit. It just makes me feel so much better, to think Dad is here--he's around. He sees us coming and going with groceries, taking in the mail, taking Sug out for a walk. He sees Figgy. He's not gone.
As for me, I hope I will be fortunate enough, on the day far, far, far off when my time on earth is over, to come back as:
- A hot-pink dahlia plant. [If you dig up the tubers every year and replant every spring, they never die. With a little TLC, deadheading, Miracle-Gro and plenty of sun, they bloom profusely.]
- A hummingbird who lives on the Cape, at the Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary.
- Figgy's pet, if she ends up having one then. Except if it is something hideous or creepy, like a slinking, sneaky ferret. I can't be one of those.
- One of the vivid pink or orange crayons Mother Nature holds in her steady hand to paint the sunset.
- A starfish.
- A seagull.
- Boot camp in the park. Fought that Monday-morning lethargy and pushed myself to go. Then Patsy pushed me on the sprints. Hard work, but proud.
- Walked Sug around block once.
- Good fresh veggies and salmon [H. made dinner].