Every Easter Sunday when my sisters and I were little my mother used to dress us in new frilly dresses, bonnets with bows, white gloves, pretty shiny shoes and socks (we were very, very cute), and then we would go to church. I didn't really like to go to church when I was younger. However, I didn't mind going - not one bit - on Easter. That may have had something to do with the candy. Heavenly angels standing at the doors with lucious boxes of candy . . . and they were GIVING IT AWAY!! Actually, they were just ordinary men, but to me they were angels! Because, really, what is more heavenly than giving away candy to adorable little girls?? In my little girl eyes it could not get any better than that!! And after church we would come home and look for our Easter baskets, which had been filled with even more sugary goodness and hidden in plain sight somewhere in the house. I’m sure that my early Easter years have a lot to do with the sweet tooth that now curses me in my adult years.
But to counteract all that wonderful candy were the eggs. The wonderful, beautiful, sloppily colored Easter Eggs. I loved coloring Easter Eggs. The newspaper inadequately covering the table, the little glasses of vinegar, the color tablets and the metal egg holders. Placing the eggs in the egg carton and waiting impatiently for the color to dry so the eggs could be hidden. And, finally, after FOREVER, the hunt. Heart pounding, you hope you find as many as the other kids. Looking in the same spot over and over, hoping against hope that an egg would be hidden there. And when all the eggs were counted and it was announced they had all been found, when you weren't looking mom and dad make sure you had as many as the others. And, then, it’s over. And all of a sudden you’re not feeling so good.
I love Easter. For many reasons. Easter Eggs among them.