Our Mail Carrier's Easter Act of Kindness for My Son With a Rare Disorder
“I need to call the Easter Bunny,” my son, Garrett, insisted as he stepped off the school bus.
“I don’t have his phone number,” I told him.
“We can write him a letter,” Garrett replied.
“I don’t have his address.” I didn’t know exactly where this conversation was heading, but mother’s intuition told me to end it.
“The Bunny Village,” Garrett stated with the absolute authority of most 16-year-olds.
He retrieved a piece of paper from the printer and an ink pen from the desk.
He handed them both to me and began dictating, “Dear Easter Bunny, I want a Wiggles guitar with Jeff, Greg, Murray and Anthony —” I placed a period that I had to quickly cross out, “…and Dorothy the Dinosaur and Wags the Dog.”
“You know,” I tried to break the news gently, “the Easter Bunny brings candy. I don’t think he can fit a guitar in an Easter basket.”
“Now write ‘Love, Garrett McGrevy.’” He either took the news really well, or he was ignoring me.
“I think you can sign your own name.”
Garrett stuffed the letter in the envelope and handed it to me. Usually, Garrett will write his own correspondence, but I guess this letter needed the neatness of a mother’s penmanship.
I addressed the letter to The Easter Bunny at Bunny Village and Garrett ran it out to our mailbox.
Santa had given Garrett a Wiggles guitar more than 10 years ago. However, the bunny does not have a workshop full of elves, and I was concerned that Garrett would not find this guitar on Easter morning.
A couple of days later, there was a Post-it note attached to our mail. “I heard that a letter from the Easter Bunny is on its way,” I read the note to Garrett.
“He’s getting me a guitar.”
“Where do you think he can get a toy?”
“At Goodwill,” Garrett answered. Garrett’s high school class goes out in the community one day a week for shopping and lunch. I could only imagine the scene at Goodwill when Garrett saw a treasured toy from his past.
Garrett was born with Smith-Magenis syndrome; although he faces many challenges, a poor memory is not one of them. And he would certainly not forget that the Easter Bunny was bringing a Wiggles guitar.
As luck would have it, my Aunt Sheri phoned as she was heading out for errands, and I asked her to stop by Goodwill. The guitar was gone. Of course.
The next afternoon, Garrett raced to the mailbox. There, on top of all the bills and spring seed catalog, was a bag of gummy bunnies. A card was addressed to Garrett and the return address read, “Bunny Village.”
“It’s him! It’s him!”
Garrett jumped up and down. He opened the card. It was signed with a single paw print.
Who knew that our mail carrier had such great connections? She really went far above “completion of (her) appointed rounds,” and Garrett was ecstatic.
And he will be on Easter morning as well, because Aunt Sheri also has connections — or rather, an eBay account.
It truly does take a village.
A Bunny Village.
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