Writing is like being able to put life into a snow globe. It takes the things that are too big and scary and reduces them into a form that I can put away when I want and look at from a distance. It also takes all that’s good in life and captures it into something I can take out when I want and look at close up and keep forever. It makes the bad things into something I can hold…and the good things into something I can hold onto. Both help so much that I need that little souvenir of life.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
When Bunnies Go Bad
Now the furry woodland creatures taunt him. The bunny family moved in under the deck and grew fat, then obese. They didn’t used to come near us. Now they lounge around all day as if in their own private resort, eating hosta salads. Going inside our backyard fence used to mean they were entering the realm of a predator; now it means protection from them.
When I let Buddy out, I exclaim, “Run, bunnies! Here comes the dog!” But they ignore me. Why would they care? Even if he manages to spot them, they know they can outrun him. They also know they rarely need to: they just hop a foot or two away and he will lose them again. You can practically hear their little bunny snickers.
I used to like furry little bun-buns. Now I think of them as sullen and defiant. These are gangs. Bunny gangs. They even let me take their pictures.
I’m wondering if I should be insulted.
Spoken by high school boy (with a mohawk) to his friend: “Dude! I can’t go to the library. Those library ladies scare me. They’re like, ‘When are you going to bring that book back?’ and I’m like, ‘Never.’”