PERIPHERAL VISION IS A WONDERFUL THING, otherwise I would never have noticed the wild rabbit sitting next to the bush as I walked past. He darted away, of course, but he reminded me of when I was a kid and would watch magicians on TV. The magician would somehow pull a rabbit out of a hat, and the audience would go “woooohhh.” We’re talking early Fifties here, when magicians were more of a thing than they are these days, and audiences were more impressed by his kind of schtick. But pulling the rabbit from the hat had an outsized impact on me then. I felt as if I was empathizing with the rabbit because that’s what my life was like, as if I’d been pulled from a hat and faced a strange and frightening crowd. Like the rabbit, I had no idea who was in control but, eventually, unlike the rabbit, I knew that it was a trick. I just didn’t know how the trick was performed, or who was yanking me out of the hat, or even what size the hat was. But I realized as I aged and my sense of self matured that, although it all was a trick, I could appreciate and find some enjoyment in the absurdity of it all. So as the rabbit that I saw on my walk scooted away, I didn’t worry about him. At least he’d escaped from the magician.
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Ostomy Memories of a Rabbit
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