I notice them. Almost every time. I feel them before I see them. And I start looking in corners. There's a Velveteen Rabbit in here somewhere. I know that. Because I am one. We Velveteen's, once we've been made free, always want to go back and find the others.
When you're still in your corner, though, your nose wiggles nervous and your eyes peer out with question marks. "Is it safe out there?", you ask and you don't trust any answers you get. The Velveteen Rabbit Maker has given me a heart that beats strong for mending the skin of my fellow rabbits. But I have this thing that I do wrong. I'm too honest. Not harsh honest. Not wounding honest, at least not intentionally. But when I see their skin is thin and burns, I forget and touch too soon to help sometimes. Then the rabbit shrinks back and I realize, he thought my hand was there to pull more hair off his skin instead of rub him with salve. I scramble to step back and hold up my hands to show them clean and safe. It makes me feel badly to know it was misunderstood.
I'm learning that sometimes it's better to leave a carrot and a bowl of water outside the door and let the rabbit grow new skin.
“Once you are real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always.”
― Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit
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