When I was about three I got this incredibly fluffy white bunny for Easter. I LOVED that bunny and carried it around everywhere and slept with it each night. I even told my parents that when I grew up and got married Bunny was going to sleep with my husband and I. Every so often Mom would wash it and hang it up by the ears on the clothesline to dry. It went missing somewhere in my early teen years, my discovering science and cars and coffee and other semi-adult things.
But recently, Dad found it where my Mom had carefully wrapped it up and put it in a sealed container deep in the recesses of my childhood closet before she died while I was still in school. Dad mailed it to me. It has almost no hair, no eyes, no whiskers. I didn't even notice. I just removed the wrapping paper, holding it close and breathing in the scent of my Mom's Chanel No. 5 and I cried.
It's still my favorite bunny and I never stopped loving it as much as I did that first day I got it. I'm lucky to have a spouse that feels about me the same way. Although I don't have the thick hair of my youth, and my stuffing has shifted with age, he still holds me that close.
The bunny sits up high on a shelf where Abby the Lab can't get to him, but every time I look at it I just smile.