Since I was a little girl I’ve given inanimate objects feelings and voice.
At age 5 or 6, I remember going with my mother to a store that was going out of business. Things were piled everywhere and in one of those piles was a small stuffed rabbit. I pulled him out and knew I wanted him. No, I knew I had to have him.
My mother said no.
I put him down but he kept calling to me. The strangest and strongest feeling of needing to take him home came over me. I begged and she finally relented. Bunny was mine and somehow I knew he felt peaceful and loved.
Over the years ( a whole bunch of years) I’ve given feelings and voice to cars, animals, trees and most recently our RV (BBoW or Big Box on Wheels). I’ve named cars and felt sad when we’ve sold them. I’ve named trees in the yard and missed them when we’ve moved away.
I’m pretty sure someone is now googling to see if this is a psychological issue and thinking maybe the blog name should be Ramble in the Bonkers.
I’ve always been accused of having too tender a heart, of caring too much about strange things.
But now I ask, strange to whom? I’m okay with a stuffed bunny teaching a little girl about love. I’m okay with BBoW or Jock the dog writing on the blog. ( Technically I write but you know what I mean. Stop googling…)
Somewhere in a box in my basement a bunny is calling my name. I’m pretty sure he wants to write a blog piece.