When I was in 2nd grade, I had a really close relationship with my teachers. My schooling was somewhat unusual because I grew up overseas. I was the only student in the school at the time, and so that meant a lot of one-on-one learning. One day, on the first of the month, I was excited because the picture on the calendar was a white rabbit. I shouted "White Rabbit!" and then promptly forgot about it. The next month, on the first, my teacher said "White Rabbit!" and I laughed because there wasn't a white rabbit. It became a running joke, and we always tried to be the first to say "White Rabbit!" on the first of the month.

The school got bigger, and the saga continued, but I had forgotten why we had ever started saying "White Rabbit!" The other students eventually started to say it too, but the main competition was always between my teacher and me. One day, she printed out a picture of a white rabbit and put it on the door, and so before I even saw her, she won (I was rather irritated, but it was funny). The competition remained fierce, and it just became a part of my normal life. It went on for years, and one summer I purchased a large ceramic white rabbit. I couldn't wait for school to start, because I wanted to surprise her with it. The day finally came for me to give it to her, and she was delighted. After that, it was almost like I'd won the competition for good. The white rabbit lived on her desk, and at one point I think I made a scarf for it. The other kids still played the game, and I joined in on occasion, but it wasn't the same, and that was okay.

Eventually, my family moved back to the US, and my family started saying it more frequently. There were countless times when I went down to breakfast, bleary eyed, and my mom greeted me with a "White Rabbit!" It became a family joke instead of a school joke, and we would say it and laugh. However, when I went to college and my family moved back to Africa, I expected that would be the end of it, because nobody else would understand why it was funny.

However, I was wrong. There is a wonderful old lady in our church who deeply bonded with my family in the time that we were there. She now has a difficult time reading, which is sad because it's one of her favorite hobbies. My mom used to go and read to her, and in that time they hatched a plan. My mom prepared care packages for me, and she sends them every month, but she also sends me individual mail. My mom told her the story of the White Rabbit, and every month, around the time of the 1st, she sends me a picture of a white rabbit that's been cut out from a calendar or magazine. Sometimes she has a hard time finding a white rabbit, and so she's had to get creative:

It's been hilarious and wonderful. I told my mom about it, and she laughed. I asked her why we said "White Rabbit!" anyway, because in the decade since I first said it, I'd forgotten that I was the one who started it all.

I suppose that this is my takeaway from this rambling story: Never underestimate how much something small can shape your life.