Posted in Almost Dorothy

Shabby Little Rabbit


The Velveteen Rabbit
The Velveteen Rabbit

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.” –The Velveteen Rabbit

Ma is in bed. Again. Again she is in bed thinking of her mistakes and outtakes and she’s kind of upset, sad, depressed, but not the kind of sad and depressed that means she needs help. At least that’s what I think when I’m not thinking about getting her help.

Last night we red the Velveteen Rabbit together. We cried a little when the bunny got tossed in the trash after he became real because the boy made him real. Love made him real and vulnerable. I looked at mom and her shabby hair (wig) was falling off and I pictured her, for a moment, as a drag queen rabbit. I pictured her (and her worn out face and her worn out hair and her worn out body) shiny and new. Born again. Unblemished.

“I’ll never be born again,” Ma said. “You only come out once.”

“That’s right,” I said.

“Thank god,” she said.

We rolled over, but not on top of each other, because we’re not into that. I reached behind ma’s head and fluffed up the pillow. She kind of looked like this rugged rabbit with cabbage ears surrounded by a beautifully gloomy white cloud. Like a bunny, she wiggled her nose. Wiggled herself into my arms and close to my heart.



I'm not real, but I'm a writer.

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