The rabbit who sits in my mother’s garden has been absent for days. It’s an intermittent rabbit at best and doesn’t move when it’s there. You have to look for it in whatever location it has chosen for its intermittent presence.
Hard to say how old it is. It could be ancient and in its wisdom just sits and thinks, contemplating maybe or just sits, content enough, not even twitching or nibbling.
I wonder if it’s not an incarnation, a visitation (intermittent) from a past friend.
Let’s face it at 93 that could be most of them.
And then I wonder if it is an indication of the mood she will be in when I get there, and she refers to herself when she says, ‘The rabbit is here again.’
Perhaps the rabbit is an admonishment or better, an alter ego, especially now that Ma does not go out much herself and the rabbit is doing what she would be doing if she could escape too.
An omen even; but I haven’t decided if it’s a good omen or a bad one; not yet. It’s too intermittent.