Easter morning was so special when I was a child. We had frilly new dresses to wear, white gloves to the wrist, shiny shoes, hats. My little sister's hat was a bonnet and she had long blonde ringlets, and a dress with a ruffled pinafore. My mom herded her along proudly, like a mother duck. My hat was a round tan felt sailor hat with streamers down the back.
We filed into the church solemnly. The congregation was seated amidst much rustling, all the little girls in their shiny shoes, with their shiny faces, the mothers' hats with netted veils over their faces, the young fathers crewcut and earnest in their Sunday suits.
I sang in the choir, the Kyrie Eleison ringing out, as the congregation pounded their chests: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. And then came the Magnificat, a joy to sing, as the incense wafted through the air.
When my kids were young, as in the photo above, we always had Easter egg hunts, adults hiding the eggs in easy to find places, trying to keep track, but always forgetting some hiding places in the flurry of the hunt. Some left down low, for the youngest to find. The kids would come bursting out of the door and race around the yard scooping candy. Jeff was so crazy about sugar, one year he did a forward slide on his belly after some chocolate, much like a baseball player sliding in to home base.
This morning, we had to be content with stuffies for the dogs, one of them a round fluffy chicken that quacks Old McDonald, driving them all into a frenzy. But there isnt a chocolate egg in the house. This year the Easter bunny brought some Chill light beer, for the sisters to enjoy on the deck in the late afternoon sun - we have waited so long this year for those leisurely hours on the deck.
Lori said "It doesnt feel like Easter. No Easter egg hunts, now your kids are grown." Sigh.
Lots of memories though.
