Bunny Blanket
My rabbits were never tiny. At seven pounds, bigger than Scott at birth, yet holding them (sweeter for me than for them) brought body memories of Scotty’s infancy.
After a blazing Summer of heat, the temps dropped last night to 50. Scrunched in a ball this morning, I had an image of a warm bunny blanket come to me. The poems I speak about being burdened, the heavy weight of it, the body’s density ~ this was a beautiful contradiction. Someone (Doug?) laid all four rabbits on my curled up body, faces facing mine, and the soft weight of their warmth was so sweetly exquisite, it was a palpable joy.
The psychological term is ‘cathecting’. You take in the love and find comfort in what you carry. Similar to imprinting the presence of a devoted mother but I couldn’t figure out how to do that. My beloved Italian grandmother stepped in, and her lap became my haven, my lighthouse, my one safe mooring.
Missy, Doodle, Petey and Maxie laid one me. No squiggling or squirming, no nipping or peeing, and I sank beneath their silky softness (Doug keeps me warm of course but he is scratchety). Their sweet love is my safe mooring. Like my grandma’s and my brother’s and my family, and all the friends I am so lucky to have care for me. I am truly blessed and infinitely grateful. The soft warm weight of Love, across the shivering emptiness of the world.
LBM 8/26/2019
