My Bunny

By John Finch

PROMPT—Never will I forget ...

It’s one of my earliest memories, flickering and vague, and more than a memory of time and place, it’s a memory of an emotional state. The emotion was grief. I was about four years old.

It’s something like this: I’ve woken up in the bed in my grandparents’ house where I’ve been sleeping with my two brothers, or maybe the younger brother was still an infant in a crib. From downstairs I hear strumming and singing. It’s the family, my grandparents and parents and aunts and uncles, all singing together and having a good time. It was jolly, and it pleased me. Clutching my toy stuffed rabbit, I crept to the stairs and sat down on the top step. From there I could see a corner of the living room and the backs of a few relatives. My grandmother was playing the banjo, and everybody else made a loose circle around her, singing happily.

The song ended, the grownup’s voices finishing on a high note. Then they all laughed and sipped their cocktails. When Nana’s banjo started up again everybody joined in. This time it was a sad song, which goes:

My Bonnie lies over the ocean

My Bonnie lies over the sea

My Bonnie lies over the ocean.

Please bring back my Bonnie to me.

I was holding my favorite toy, a lumpy gray stuffed animal with long pink ears and a pink nose, whose name was Bunny. This is what I heard my relatives singing at the bottom of the stairs:

My Bunny lies over the ocean

My Bunny lies over the sea

My Bunny lies over the ocean

Please bring back my Bunny to me

I was alarmed. I didn’t know that ‘over the ocean’ meant on the other side of the ocean. I just pictured my beloved Bunny floating, over the ocean, on top of the waves, and imagined him alone and drifting out of reach, lying on his back in a dark, choppy sea.

Bring back

Bring back

Oh, bring back my Bunny to me, to me!

I was overcome with sadness. The mournful melody and the sorrowful voices, along with the dreadful image of Bunny, soggy and bobbing in the waves, moved me, and I started sobbing. I held Bunny to my chest. And then I heard them sing the second verse, which goes:

Last night as I lay on my pillow

Last night as I lay on my bed

Last night as I lay on my pillow

I dreamed my poor Bunny was DEAD!

What? Oh, no! Poor Bunny was DEAD! Bunny must have drowned lying over the ocean! Tears flowed. The grownups were singing fervently. It was the saddest thing I’d ever heard.

Bring back, bring Back,

Bring back my Bunny to me, to me

The grownups never heard my sobs over their singing.

That’s all I remember, but I can picture myself in my pajamas, sitting at the top of the stairs, stunned by a tidal wave of sadness. I was sleepy and calmed down when the next happy song was sung and the mood brightened. When the party broke up, my mother found me asleep at the top of the stairs, still clutching Bunny.

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John Finch is a retired actor and veteran of many Off-Broadway and Off-Off Broadway shows, happily residing in Riverdale, the Bronx, New York City.