When No Answer Came

My first unanswered prayer

Mama and Daddy take me to the hardware store on a Saturday morning.

The air inside smells like fertilizer and metal and wood shavings. The fluorescent lights hum overhead. Everything feels bigger than it should, the shelves stacked high with paint cans, the coils of rope hanging from hooks, the bags of feed piled near the back.

And then I see it.

A wire cage sitting on the counter near the register.

A white rabbit inside.

Its nose twitches. Its ears fold back against its head. It sits very still, like it’s waiting for something.

Above the cage, a hand-lettered sign: Giving Away a Live Easter Rabbit.

Daddy lifts me so I can see better.

I lean forward, my hands pressed against the edge of the counter. I study the rabbit like it already belongs to me. I imagine carrying it home in my arms. I imagine building it a place to live in the backyard. I imagine my brothers and sisters watching me feed it.

The store clerk points to a cardboard box sitting beside the cage.

“Just write your name on a slip,” he says. “We’ll draw one on Easter.”

Daddy sets me down. I take a pencil from the counter and a small square of paper. I print my name carefully, pressing hard so the letters are clear.

The clerk folds it once and drops it into the box with the others.

I watch my name disappear, certain it matters.

That night I kneel beside my bed.

My hands are folded. My elbows rest on the mattress. The room is quiet except for the sound of my brothers settling into their beds across the hall.

I close my eyes and begin the way I always begin.

“God bless Mama, Daddy, Alice, Billie, Glyn, and Freddie.”

I pause.

Then I add the request.

“And please let me win the Easter bunny.”

I whisper it like it’s sacred business.

No bargaining.

No promises.

Just belief.

I climb into bed and pull the covers up to my chin.

I fall asleep believing heaven has heard me.