On Easter, we had this tradition where an old man down the road would paint little ‘bunny’ prints along the sidewalk, as well as up to the door of every house where a child lives…and he’s done this every year, without fail, since before I was born.
Over the summer, that old man passed away, so no one in their right mind expected to see the tracks this year. However, when I woke up- there they were!
Turns out that his eighteen year old grandson (who happens to be known as the badass of our school) got up at three this morning and spent four hours- by himself -painting the prints; just to make sure that the neighborhood kids wouldn’t be disappointed.
My faith in our generation = restored.