The Day the Easter Bunny Died

by admin

The Day the Easter Bunny Died

Barricade the bunny trails, there will be no more hoping for hopping.
Will we forsake now all leaps of faith starting with magical mythical candy egg rabbit conjurings …

Is it the last year of childhood?
Where a parent hopes a faith outside of a self sees to the beginning of one within?

The candy egg left for the bunny by my child at the back door steps, stashed in
Mommy’s closet after candy egg hiding ritual, later rolled out for a cover-blown Easter Morning trauma!!

Right before the already skeptical (but not totally ready to let go) eyes of my bunny believer.
Dashed in doubt my red face and red handed well-intended stash left a gash in her expression I’ll never forget.

Trust was shattered for a moment. Too soon the questions from the tooth fairy to Santa took place. Again I had to disappoint, confess my good intention and traditional followings.

Parents perpetuate the magic of childhood and have to pay for it later. I had not expected the myths to last as long as it did. I felt the truth closing in on me. I enjoyed the power of my persuasive reply “those that believe receive” assuaging doubt over the past years.

Adults continue childhood fairy stories for different reasons: they remember the magic of childhood or they never got over the learned fact that Santa wasn’t real themselves. In large part for me, the past few years as my child has matured, it was the all too well knowing that a time will come when my maternal magic to persuade and influence will diminish—the age of self-awareness will take up so much room in her young life that there will be little room for fairy tales. I hope today that she will remember the path back to the bunny trail for herself one day, become the first female president to go to Mars and find a new mythology that redefines the time spent to put our imaginations to.

I may no longer be an associate employee of Santa or the Easter Bunny, but I’m still glad happy that I did take a stand in the mixed up mess of lying, for magic moments of childhood were well founded—even if I did have to take a hard fall at The Bunny Trials.