23 Jul Morning After Morning
Most summer mornings begin the same way.
The girls are still asleep, and I’m trying to make coffee quietly enough that they can enjoy these days of sleeping in. No lunches to pack. No rush out the door. Just the soft hum of the coffee maker and the morning light making its way through the kitchen.
From the counter, I can see the girls’ two rabbits in their enclosure. Before I’ve even placed my mug beneath the coffee machine, they’ve spotted me. They sit up a little taller, stretching toward the front of their pen, doing their best to catch my eye. It’s their way of making sure I see them, and perhaps reminding me they’re ready for breakfast.
I open the refrigerator to see what I can find. Romaine is always a favorite. Sometimes there are a few sprigs of cilantro left from dinner the night before. A couple of pieces of celery. A few blueberries scattered across the top.
They watch each piece drop into the little silver bowl they know is theirs.
Then I carry the bowl over, slide open the gate to the larger part of their enclosure, and set breakfast down.
The next moment they’re airborne.
Rabbit people call them binkies. They leap into the air, twist mid-jump, and race around their little world. It’s as though their happiness has become too big to keep inside.
They stop for a few bites, then race off for another binky before coming back for more.
Nothing about their morning routine is new. Somehow, none of it has become ordinary.
I don’t know if rabbits feel gratitude or simply anticipation. I only know they haven’t lost their capacity to greet an ordinary morning with their whole hearts.
They don’t seem to believe joy belongs only to extraordinary moments and they aren’t the least bit embarrassed by their delight.
I’ve come to love that about them.
Tomorrow morning will begin the way it always does. Before the coffee is ready and before the girls are awake, they’ll be waiting for me. I’ll carry over their breakfast, slide open the gate, and they’ll leap into the air again.
And for a few minutes, before the rest of the day begins, I’ll get to borrow their way of seeing the world.