Dear That Kid That Wants to Know the Meaning of Life

Well, That Kid That Wants to Know the Meaning of Life, as a public high school teacher (especially in these times) I try not to talk about my own religious/ philosophical beliefs. What I can speak to, however, is a recent event in my life that caused me to ponder the meaning of life. 

It all started last week when I discovered a nest of bunnies on the side of my house. Not being gifted with a font of rabbit knowledge, I Googled and Googled all the rabbit sites I could. The upshot was this: they all said to leave the nest alone, the mother would come to feed them at night, and in a few weeks they would be adults and take off. It was hard to stand back and not interfere, but I did my best to channel The Watcher and not get involved. 

A nest of five baby bunnies on the side of my house.

After a few agonizing days of worry and noninterference, three of the bunnies hopped off to their new lives. The next day, another one left and then there was one solitary bunny. Once again I went down a Google rabbit hole(pun!)to find out if the bunny would survive without the rest of the family or if I should finally get involved. Again, the internet urged me to be Switzerland. Again, I struggled, since I know what it is to be a vulnerable being in this world. 

The bunny did not return to the nest but seemed to linger around our house for days. I spotted our bunny (I had started to think of the bunny as our bunny, which I should have known to be a bad idea)poking about the house for a few days after that. Mostly, sitting on the rocks. Sometimes squeezing through a crack in the fence. Always seeming tiny and impossibly alone. I was just on the verge of laying out a feast of blueberries when the worst thing happened. 

Our bunny hiding by the door.

After an especially rough day at our respective jobs, the wife and I went to a rare weeknight dinner at our favorite pizza place. As is our routine, we let our dogs, Opus and Winnie out in the backyard on our return. As I watched Opus head to the back fence, I saw him slowly,(heartbreakingly)gently run his paw over something on the ground, hovering respectfully just an inch above the thing I could not see. Almost instantly, I knew it was the bunny. As I shooed Opus away, the enormity of the moment threatened to swallow me whole. My head and heart immediately held a vigorous debate.

This happens. So many rabbits die every day in Valley Ranch.

    Why? Such a sad, small life.

This is the way of life. This is a man's life writ small.

    I should have done something. Anything.

There's no time for this. You have to move the body.

    I need to give this bunny a proper burial.

Thinking about that Joan Baez saying ("action is the antidote to despair"), I gathered my gear, gently loaded the tiny body into a sack, and carried it to my trunk. 

As I was preparing to leave, the world moved on around me. A father and son played badminton in the street, shouting and laughing with each volley. A Tesla with two student-driver stickers haltingly lurched past. A woman and her son strolled by, walking a shaggy dog vigorously wagging his tail as he took in all the sniffs. He pulled his family in my direction, perhaps smelling my bunny, or my dogs, or my sadness. 

Without asking as I normally do, I bent down to pet this furry ball of joy. The woman told me his name was Barney and, at that moment, he seemed like The Best Boy in the World, wagging his tail to say "henlo." Thoroughly engrossed in giving him a good scratch, it took me a moment to notice Barney only had three legs. It turns out he had cancer surgery two weeks ago. Completely unbothered, Barney completed a spin so I could scratch his back, his impossibly fluffy tail swooshing across my face.

At this point, I could not help but get this message that was more obvious than a burning bush. Life does go on. Barney faced the random, unfair cruelty of life, yet continued to sniff out the good. If this were a scene in a movie, I would have derided it as entirely too treacly. Since it was a scene in my movie, I accepted it gratefully.

After saying farewell to Barney and his family, I drove off and found a final resting place for my tiny friend. I dug a small hole, gently lowered the sack, covered it up, said a few words of thanks, and went home.

At home, I took my dogs for a long walk. We enjoyed the last moments of the day as it slowly, inevitably gave way to the night. 

Opus and Winnie watching the world.

What's that got to do with the meaning of life? It means I'm not sure what the meaning is, but I do know that it's filled with joy and pain, light and darkness, and, no matter what, it goes on. So should we.