The Velveteen Rabbit goes to Mexico

I was on my way to Marlena’s to deliver a Christmas gift. I had brought a few cellophane wrapped gifts to the small Mexican village to give away. This particular one was a white bunchy stuffed rabbit holding some perfumed soaps and talc.

I walked by a typical Mexican house – a rough dry dirt yard, an occasional hole dug by the scrawny dog, doors wide open showing a sparsely furnished interior, and laundry hanging low on a make shift clothes line. An adobe type wall and wrought iron fence closed in the backyard like a giant iguana with a spikey back.  The bottom part was a solid mud or concrete wall from the ground to maybe 3 feet high, the top part wrought iron spindles, black in color, another 2 or 3 feet high.

  A niña about four years old was chest height to the bottom part, and looked at me through the bars. She was holding something. Her baby sister went trotting off soon as I stopped. The four year old held a bunny–– a real live dirty-white bunny––scruffy, skinny, and very greyed from the dust and dirt common to that climate. Bunny had a good attitude and didn’t seem to mind the little girl playing with him, being tucked under her arm, hanging and dangling, being wiggled and jiggled.

I gently put my hand through the wrought iron bars inviting myself to pet bunny. I was a white woman in tiny village, not a common site, and this little nina wasn’t quite sure if I could be trusted. But she slowly came closer and very shyly let me rub bunny’s ears. Bunny was indeed scruffy and skinny, but docile.

After a few minutes of establishing that she knew no English and I knew no Spanish, we settled for a non-verbal exchange. Suddenly, I remembered the stuffed rabbit I had in my backpack and how perfect it was for the moment.

I held up a just-a-moment finger, then bent over and wrestled with the cellophane. She didn’t need the soap or the talc. The little girl couldn’t see over the wall part and could only hear the crinkling of bags and paper.

When I suddenly stood up with a snow white bunchy bunny the same size as her real bunny, she lit up as much as her shyness would allow.

I jiggled and wiggled the stuffy in exactly the same way she had with her bunny. I pet my bunny’s long ears – then reached through the wrought iron and pet her bunny’s long ears. I tapped my bunny’s toes – twice on each paw, then reached through and tapped her bunny’s toes, twice on each paw. I touched mine’s nose and gently circled his eyes, then did the same for her rabbit. Lastly I wiggled it’s tail, then stretched through and wiggled the dirty white tail. It was a little game that just happened.

By now the little niña’s eyes were saucers and she was riveted to the story unfolding in front of her. She had absolutely no inkling of what was going to happen next. Neither did I, but we both were mesmerized and stood a moment taking it in.

I ran out of imagination so squeezed the stuffy through the wrought iron bars, and gestured a gift for her. She gingerly took it while at the same time, mouthed “Gracias” hardly believing it was really happening.

The rabbits and their contrast of whites were stark. They were exactly the same size, except one skinny, one fat.

She looked at it only for a moment before securely tucking it under her other arm. She was motionless, and we both stood there a moment hardly believing our good luck. She couldn’t wait to put her real bunny down and have a good look at the new one, but now wasn’t the time.

I sensed her anticipation and bent to collect my things so she could examine her new treasure in private. With the real bunny tucked under one arm, and the stuffy under the other, all four back feet dangling, it was hard to tell them apart. She slowly, softly, walked me to the very last inch of her fenced yard and watched until I was clean out of sight. Her preschool way thanking me, a universal language of the heart. 

I stole a glance back in time to see her tear off to show her mom and baby sister.

No words were exchanged, but so much was said.