B unny binkies! My rabbits do the funniest things sometimes.

There’s this strange and crazy jump-twist movement Pinky does that no human being could possibly do.

I got alarmed when it first happened, and looked it up in Habits of Rabbits, and there it was. Binkies. Perfectly normal, perfectly crazy.

He’s on the rug in the living room, jumping straight up in the air, but twisting his head and body in opposite directions at the same time, so that upon landing he’s in a different direction than he started out. You never know exactly where he’ll end up. I don’t think Pinky himself knows where he’s going.

He jumps again, almost as high as the table, and then he flip-twists himself and the next thing I know Pinky’s landed on the couch and is frolicking over the couch cushions.

Funny bunny.

I plop down on the couch too, just as the phone rings.

It’s not for me, surely, but Mom likes me to take messages.

I scoop Pinky into my arm and answer it.

“Hello, is this Naomi?” The voice is vaguely familiar.


“It’s Mrs. Isaacs, Leeba’s mother here.”

Pinky tremors in my hand.

“How is Leeba doing?” I say belatedly.

A sigh. And then, “Thank G-d for everything, but it’s going to be a long haul...”

I make a throaty, hopefully appropriate sound.

“So, I wanted to talk to you,” she says. “You know, I think it’s good for Leeba to have friends over. It livens her up a little, lets her be part of things, to some extent at least. And the thing is, well, you’re a good, old friend, Leeba’s known you for ages and she’s comfortable with you. Somehow, she’s finding some of the others to be a strain. They’re new friends, I think, and she hasn’t made it with them enough to be okay that they’re seeing her in this state... Naomi, she wants you, most of all.”



After everything, despite everything?

“Oh,” is all I can say.

“Yes,” she says, “If you could find some time to come around to the hospital — visiting hours are after five — I… we… would be very grateful...” Her voice cracks off.

“Sure,” I say, to calm her, if not because I want to. “I’ll be there.”

She murmurs some brachos through the phone line. Slowly, fervently, like she is thinking about each one.

Seeing her daughter like that, days and nights spent in the hospital, it must make things so stark, so clear.

I put down the phone, pensive, and deposit a droopy Pinky back into the hutch.

Who would have thought Leeba would ask for me, want me?

But why, why, did it have to take an accident to come to this?

The door flies open and two chattering women come into the house. Mom and Aunt Debbie. Sisters; the years fly away when those two are together. They are so silly sometimes, it’s marvelous. (Excerpted from Mishpacha Jr., Issue 691)