Peri Winkle Rabbit [David’s blog on KS Friday]

The birds on a wire brought my Periwinkle book to mind. Context is everything. It is now as relevant as the day I wrote it:

Peri Winkle Rabbit was lost.

All the other animals were lost, too!

There had been a fire. Peri Winkle was asleep when grandpa Harry Winkle Rabbit shook her awake and said, “RUN!”

Peri ran. At first, Peri ran with her mom and dad, her sisters and brothers and grandpa Harry Winkle, too.

All the other animals were running, too, the deer and the bears and the foxes and the squirrels. Some were running in circles but most just ran away from the fire.

It was confusing. There were so many legs and paws running this way and that. Peri could no longer see her parents. She couldn’t see her brothers or sisters. Even grandpa Harry Winkle Rabbit was nowhere to be found.

Peri stopped and got knocked down. She hopped back up and called out for her mother. She called for her father. She couldn’t see them anywhere.

A great paw scooped her up and she was suddenly eye to eye with a bear!

“This is no time for still standing, little ears!” said the bear.

“I can’t find my family,” squeaked Peri Winkle Rabbit. The bear was holding her very tight.

“We’ll find your family, little ears,” puffed the running bear, “But first we have to find a place safe and beyond the fire.”

The bear held Peri Winkle Rabbit close to his chest. Peri could hear the boom-Boom of the bear’s big heart as he ran swiftly away from the flames. Peri Winkle Rabbit felt so sad and so tired, she couldn’t help it when she fell fast asleep.

“Good morning, little ears!” The bear smiled as Peri blinked open her eyes.

“Where am I?”  asked Peri.

“I don’t rightly know, “ said the bear, “but we’re now safe and far from the fire.”

That’s how Peri Winkle Rabbit came to be lost. She looked around and saw that the forest was gone! The other animals looked and they saw it too. All the green was now black and the mighty trees were charcoal twigs twisted in ruins on the ground.

The animals started to cry. Even the big bear cried. Peri cried, too. Together, they made lots of loud crying sounds and it felt good to wail the loss of their forest home.

And then, they each told their stories of escape from the fire. They told of their lost homes and missing family and friends. They told the stories of their cuts and their bruises, their fears and their worries.  They told of how they came to be together, in that place at that time. Peri Winkle Rabbit told her story, too.

“What do we do now?” a red fox asked, which was exactly the question that Peri Winkle Rabbit was thinking!

No one said a word for a very long time. They looked at each other, all covered in soot, dirty and singed and ruffled and tired.

“Well,” a great ram began, “I am sure footed, I can help carry what’s needed.”

A hawk landed on the ram and said, “I can see far away and can help find your missing families and friends.”

The great bear said, “Yes, and I have a nose that can smell good smells for many miles, I will help supply all of my new friends with food!”

“I can gather nuts!” cried the squirrel, rubbing his nose with his hands.

“I have great ears!” cried Peri Winkle Rabbit! “I can hear what is needed and help find who can do it!”

And all the animals offered their great gifts in service to their new friends. They slowly began to do what was needed with whatever they could find. They found water and food. They found shelter from the rain. They looked for their families. They made new friends.

 “Remember, a forest must grow back slowly, one day at a time,” said the bear when Peri felt impatient.” Our job is to help it grow.”

“It is all different than before,” said Peri, suddenly missing her old home.

“Yes,” said the bear. “We are all different now, little ears. The fire has changed us forever.”

Peri Winkle Rabbit wrinkled her nose.

The great bear smiled and hugged her close, saying, “Now might be the time for still standing, little ears, we don’t want to miss the lessons of the fire.”

So together Peri Winkle rabbit and the great bear sat very still, listening to the forest and thinking about all that had happened. And though she didn’t quite know where she was, Peri Winkle Rabbit wasn’t lost anymore.

Periwinkle Rabbit Was Lost © 2005 David Robinson

A one-copy book made for a child who lost their family during Hurricane Katrina. I’ve never published the full text but thought it was time. I included photos of a few of the pages.

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read Kerri’s blog about BIRDS ON A WIRE

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Listen To The Memento [on DR Thursday]

Stop for moment and look around your house. How many of the objects that populate your shelves and walls are mementos? Keepsakes from travels or special events? I’m always struck, after a devastating fire or tornado, how often I watch people sifting through the rubble of their home to find a photograph or a special ring. There is the shock of losing the home, but the stories! What will happen with the loss of the reminder, the things that carry the story?

Last week, after the night we thought there was a fire in our walls, we talked about our race to get out of the house, and the question of “What do we grab and take?” The dog. The special papers. The computers. A few clothes. Those “items” fall into two categories: what you love (the dog. each other) and what we need to start again (special papers, the computers, a change of clothes). Although losing the passports and birth certificates would be difficult to replace, the first category is really all you need.

I’m certain, because our experience was so recent, I want to sob watching the news footage of families fleeing their homes in Ukraine. What do you grab and take when yesterday you went to work and today you are fleeing bombs and war? Where do you go? We have friends a few minutes away who would have taken us in and helped us back on our feet. When fleeing is the destination…where do you go?

The sun was bright through the cold on the day we pushed LittleBabyScion down the driveway so we could get Big Red out and onto the street. At first, she thought she found a wedding ring poking out of the snow. One of the men who worked so hard to replace our water line must have lost it. But then, we realized it was a brass fitting. We brought it in house. Someday, when the trench has settled, the front yard has grass again, when we feel comfortable leaving the television plugged in, and the house is restored to order, the ring will serve as a memento to remind us of the upheaval.

Yesterday I held the ring for a moment and I wondered why we – humans – build memorials to war that carry messages chiseled in stone, “Never again…” or “Remember…”, sentiments that are meant to remind us that murdering each other for resource or political gain actually achieves nothing but pain and the erection of yet another stone and steel memento – it’s a flip of priority – as if the special papers and computers have more importance than the people. The people become expendable. Where do you flee in the face of such madness?

read Kerri’s blog post about THE RING