Bunny Trails

 

When I talk, I take them. . .you know those little trips off the track and back. I know they are called Rabbit Trails, and I wanted to call them RTs but in today’s social media language RTs are Re-Tweets so that’s not going to work. (Did you see how easy it was to take that one?)

So, I call them BTs or Bunny Trails. They happen often in my life – verbally, in writing, and in living.

I start off on the right path. . .then a thought comes up and there I go – briefly.

Do you know anyone who doesn’t?

In a group of girlfriends it’s so cool – we take all kinds of BTs . One thing leads to another. This may drive men crazy, but it’s a valuable friendship tool. Really. We get to know all kinds of interesting things about each other as we hop here and there and then back again. Maybe BTs are the way we verbally multi-task. I’m not sure, but these detours make each conversation an adventure.

At a recent girl’s night, five of us talked about politics, health, the medical industry (that’s what it’s become!), faith, style, marriage, aging parents, the new books we’re reading, the movies we’ve seen, our pets, and the kids we love – in detail – in a few hours. We also ate supper and watched a wedding video. Oh! And, I was taught some new fangled thing on my cell phone, sent a text to test it out, received a text or two in return. You can tell when we’re angry – the speed and volume of our conversation rises. It’s best if we meet in one of our homes because in restaurants we can seem a bit unruly. We laugh (from our bellies), and cry too so you can see how that might be.

We took so many BTs we nearly had mental whiplash.

The neat thing about conversation is that you don’t know where it’s going or where it’s going to take you.

I watched a bunny run through our yard the other day – he was being chased by the neighbor’s dog, successfully avoiding death with a BT here and another one there. That doesn’t always happen, but when it does, I want to give the rabbit a high five, and I imagine his little heart racing as he sits suddenly still. You remember how that felt when you were playing hide and go seek as a kid – you’d slipped into a hiding place after running around looking and the kid who is “it” comes super close to finding you. You held your breath, certain he or she could hear your heart just about beating out of your chest.

Ummm. . .where were we? Oh yes. . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Joy is the author of 8 books. She and her husband live on 35 acres in Minnesota.