I grew up outside of the city, in a new development with a number of empty lots and wooded areas. I remember how we would SCOUT out the woods, filling our time with imaginary friends and adventures. The woods felt enormous to us, though in reality small. Once, we saw a dark THING, lying in the dirt.
As we got closer we could see it was a bird, limp and cold. With a disregard for germs, maggots, and the other parts of DEATH, I picked up the little body. I was fascinated by the chance to be close to a wild creature, to feel its softness, to touch its wings, stroke its head. It was an object of wonder – as marvelous to me as if a star had fallen out of the ETHER. I still remember that gift, and all the sensations from the way my grubby hands felt to the coldness of the dead bird.

Georg’ann

That year my aunt had another GUEST visiting, so we stayed at the Santa Cruz youth hostel. Which was a little complex of small white cottages around a central garden not far from the ocean. She DROVE us there after dinner. We were surprised when we entered our room to find a basket of fruit and a small cluster of heavily scented gardenias in a bowl shaped vase. Auntie had prearranged for this welcome, feeling bad she couldn’t host us fully.
You, my tired little one, slipped on a big t-shirt of your dad’s, it hung below your knees. On the front a cartoonish white rabbit in surgery scrubs with the words, The ETHER Bunny, printed below.

Heather