Changed. Transformed. Grown. Reborn. Today brings about two new beginnings. Easter and it’s rejoice and celebration of our Lord. And the final slice that is really a beginning as well. I always had ideas in my head and in the last 31 days have put them down on paper much more than 31 times. Some are just waiting to ripen into a future slice down the road. I can’t wait to watch them grow.
Easter has always been special in my family. For the obvious celebratory religious reasons that humbled us as we rejoiced in church, but also for the baskets. My parents looked at Easter as an after Christmas celebration. The birth and the rebirth. As a result, they CELEBRATED Easter. We would come down the long staircase rubbing the sleepiness out of our eyes and immediately set out on the hunt. The hunt for baskets. Always hidden in some clever location. For a few years anyways. Then the baskets got too plentiful to be hidden. One of my favorite pictures is me with my bed head perm and giant grin encompassing my face, standing next to my new, super cool, just had to have it, scooter. I rifled through the rest of my basket, chocolate, eggs, gum, suckers, dots, bunnies, beans, and trinkets and then hit the driveway, still in my Garfield nightgown to feel the wind in my hair. Every Easter that followed was pretty much the same: basket, candy, and the piece de resistance: large outdoor babysitter.
Easter now is different/same. We dye Easter eggs together. In my memories, it took the whole evening, creating the perfect array of colors and the one butt ugly egg we would save for my dad: speckled and brown from being dunked in every color for at least 5 minutes. I still have no idea why he loved that egg so much every year when he came home. Now, the egg dying takes about 5 minutes total. Dunk. Wait 5 seconds. Pull out. Done.
We still get baskets from my mom, but now I get to impart the same joy on Maddie as she comes down our short staircase, rubbing the sleepiness out of her eyes to feast upon the spread that the Easter Bunny has delivered. I don’t hide because that moment is just too precious to watch.
We go outside to hunt for the eggs that said bunny hid all over the yard. A tradition carried on from my husband as my mom must have been too drained from making our baskets that we never did egg hunts as kids. I have no memories of this but my husband recalls searching for hours to find each egg and coming to blows with his brother over the number of eggs each scored. Now, I swear Maddie hunts them all down within 10 minutes even the hardest ones you can’t even see with your naked eye. It’s like she has egg sonar guiding her.
It makes me wonder if years from now she will look back on the endless memories of Easter and recall how precious and long-lasting they were. She’ll retell stories of endless searching, meticulous dyeing, and bountiful baskets. She’ll argue accuracy with any future siblings that will someday join her. And in my heart of hearts I look forward to the day that I get to see her pass on our traditions along with starting new ones with her own tow-headed brood.