The Field: An Easter Story

The Field: An Easter Story[1]

By Aaron McEmrys

When Dorothee was little, she would wait on the front porch every afternoon for her dad to come home from work. She would sit on the porch swing reading a book or coloring, and when she heard the sound of his beat up old car turning onto their gravel driveway from the road she would jump to her feet, leap off the porch and be waiting to give him a big hug just as soon as he got out of the car.

She would carry his briefcase into the house for him, and then they would have an afternoon snack together – fresh peaches from the tree in their backyard if they were ripe, and graham crackers and milk if they weren’t.

Father was a professor at the university, and he was always busy, but he always made time for Dorothee no matter how busy he got. At least that’s how it used to be.

Then he started writing a new book, a big one. Super thick, like a phone book almost. He said it was the book he’d wanted to write for his whole life. His study filled up with papers and books, and her father seemed to spend every spare moment in their working, his eyes blinking tiredly in the blue light of the computer screen. He didn’t have time for snacks anymore, and often worked until long after Dorothee’s bedtime – he even worked straight through dinner – always on that stupid old book.

Dorothee was sad. She missed her father so much, but he didn’t even seem to notice her anymore. Sometimes she sat out on the porch waiting for him for hours – only to be carried to bed by her mother, because her dad stayed so late at the office. She tried everything to get his attention – painting water colors and making up jokes – but he just said, “thanks honey, very nice, dear” – without even looking at her, before shooing her out of the office saying, “I’ve just got to finish this chapter, okay?”

“Everything was great before that stupid book came along”, she told her pet bunny, Hubert, one day. He doesn’t even care about me at all. Her father was at work and her mom was making dinner, and before she knew what she was doing, Dorothee found herself sneaking into his study. She pulled out her magic markers and colored all over his papers and painting on his notes and even inside some of his books. She knew she was going to get in big trouble, but she didn’t care – maybe if she ruined his book then at least he would notice her.

Then she sat and waited for her father to get home. He took one look at his office and his face got very red. He took a deep breath, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, and Dorothee had never seen him look so old. Without looking at her he quietly said, “Go to your room.”

She lay in bed feeling terrible, and she could hear her mother and father talking in their room until late at night when she finally fell asleep.

It seemed she had only been asleep for a few seconds, when she felt her father’s hand on her arm, shaking her awake. “Get dressed, and come with me – quietly.”

Dorothee stumbled into her clothes and down the stairs, terrified that she was in for the worst punishment ever. Her father hurried her out to the car. It wasn’t even dawn yet and the night was cold and wet, with a thin powder of frost covering everything like a blanket.

They didn’t talk as they drove.

After a while her father turned off the main road onto an old farm road. He drove all the way to the top of a big hill, pulled over, and turned off the car. They got out and he spread out a big warm blanket n the ground. He also pulled out a big thermos of hot chocolate and a giant loaf of fresh French bread and some apples and cheese.

Dorothee was just working up the courage to ask what was going on and when her punishment was going to begin when a sliver of sun rose suddenly over the valley as if reeled up by a gigantic fishing pole. Dawn light blazed across the big meadow below them and Dorothee gasped in surprise. Beneath them, covering the whole valley floor were hundreds and hundreds of rabbits - rabbits of every possible description hopping here and there with their twitchy little noses and floppy ears. Some were munching the new spring grass, while others seemed happy to bask in the rising sun and sniff the air. Here and there Dorothee noticed whole gangs of baby rabbits chasing one another and playing hide and seek by darting in and out of their burrows.

“Dad…what…how…?”

Her father smiled, and Dorothee had never seen him look so young.

“I don’t know how, honey. All I know is every year about this time all the rabbits come out of their burrows every spring right about now, just like this. I used to come here with my father when I was your age, but I forgot all about it until now.” He paused, then, taking off his glasses as he always did when he had something important to say, he said, “You mean the world to me, daughter – you just mean the world to me” – and he bent down his head and whispered so that their foreheads were touching – “and I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He put his arm around her, and they both looked back out across the valley, where a new generation of bunnies flopped happily in the tall green grass. Dorothee took a deep sip of hot chocolate from the warm thermos, and snuggled up against her father’s side. It was spring again, and hot chocolate had never tasted so good.

[1] This story was inspired by my friend Dorothee Hahn, who saw such a field as a young girl in Germany.