I opened my eyes this morning, took in a deep breath and stretched my body. I smiled at the memory entering my mind on this first day of the month of April. "White rabbit!" I said out loud.
My mom doesn't drive. Luckily, her coworker, Violet, lived in the neighborhood. When I was little, there might be an occasion when I'd ride with them to the office. Violet was an Englishwoman whose accent I was fascinated with and always enjoyed hearing.
On one such ride, I listened to her conversation with Mom, who had lived in England for a number of years also, about English food. While others might think "Bangers & Mash," I was educated on "Bubble & Squeak," another mouth-watering dish of well-cooked potatoes and cabbage, made popular during World War II. I always loved hearing Vi talk about it.
Another time, Violet told me that if you say "white rabbit" on the first day of the month - it has to be the first thing you say - it will bring you luck. As a child, this fascinated me. So, I tried to do this every month, although my efforts were often futile since I would forget, having said something already before remembering it was the first day of the month. Then I'd just say it anyway!
Nowadays when I say it, I get a twinge of sadness. It's been many years since my mother and Violet both retired. They remained friends, though. They stayed in touch and sometimes Vi would pick Mom up to go shopping. Or I'd see her when I attended the annual holiday party with my mother. Or we would enjoy a mother-daughter dinner, Vi bringing one of hers along as well.
Over time, they saw less of one another. Schedules got busy or their health took downward turns. I learned that Vi's daughter had moved in to help out as she aged. Then we learned through the grapevine that Vi was moved to an assisted living facility out of town, and the house was sold.
Violet's spirit no longer roamed the neighborhood. There seemed to be a void in her place. But all these years later, I remember Violet. Every month, with fondness, I say "White rabbit."