Meet Rabbi. No, he is not a Jewish priest. He is a rabbit. "Rabbi" is short for "rabbit". At least to an (almost) one year girl and her family of madmen. I know he doesn't look much like a rabbit but, trust me, he is. He has the tail to prove it.
Rabbi was given to me on my very first Christmas by my dear old Nana. From that day forward, Rabbi and I did everything together; we slept together, ate together, played together. I used to take him on holiday with me right up until I was near 10 years old (now would be a good time to point out that i can't believe I'm telling you this). Now, he sits on my shelf in view of anyone's passing eye.
To me, Rabbi represents some of the happiest days of my life: my childhood in Zimbabwe. Those were the days when my family lived under the same roof. I saw my dad every day and he used to come to all my school events. My entire extended family (uncles, aunts, grandparents, great grandparents, Godfathers and Godmothers, cousins, second cousins, cousins twice removed - you get the picture) all used to live very close to us. I spent my days outside. I lived my life in my pool, or my grandparents pool. We took photos and videos all the time. There were games in the forest at the bottom of my grandparents house. The best Christmas lunches fit for Kings. I had ceaseless energy all the time. I had friends whom owned lake houses where we would go spend the day, or weekend - swimming in the lake, on the boat, exploring and not really caring if we got sunburnt.
Of course, things change and you are given new circumstances and new experiences. Some for the better and some, not so much.
Nevertheless, it is a beautiful life I have lived thus far.
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