Sunday, April 4, 2010


The tears came so quickly.  A sniff.  That wretched lump that tightened my throat.  Something so simple, and yet, I couldn't help myself.

I tend to be an extremely emotional person, given to bursts of exuberance and vexation, particularly on I-95.  But, tears?  Rarely.  In fact, when they do come they last less than a minute or two and usually go undetected by even my closest companion.  Today was no exception, but the swiftness with which they came, and the situation in which they were summoned threw me for a loop.

Christine's Mom-Mom sold Avon for many years.  Sometimes I was certain she was her best customer.  She would get some of the most adorable things for the kids, and always had something unique for them on holidays.  One year she had an Easter chick that chirped "Happy Easter!" in the cheeriest, tiniest voice; it was impossible to feel bad when it chirped its greeting.  Even now, when I hear someone joyfully proclaim "Happy Easter," that fuzzy yellow chick and its lilting little voice come to mind.  Today however, my mind's transition from fuzzy little chick to cherished memories was immediate, and so were the tears.

I miss Eloise; I'm saddened I could not see her before she was gone.  I miss the Easters when my children were small and my church family was large.  I miss Steven; he, too, left without saying "goodbye."  I miss the unknown -- what could have been if things had been different.  I miss the days when my mom could remember.

This morning the girls woke up early and tip-toed down the stairs to get a preview of their Easter bounty.  Their alarm left me snickering to myself beneath the covers of our warm bed.  "Maddy's Easter basket was empty except for an egg with a dumb message, and my basket is missing!"  Daddy and I had played a little joke on our Peeping Tinas -- Madison's "dumb message" was the first in a series of clues leading her right to an Easter treat; Olivia's basket was safely stowed, left to discovery only after she completed the puzzle we'd left her.  Their giggles and sheepish grins as they moved through the house searching and second-guessing possible solutions was priceless.  Their Easter morning came not only with treats, but a sense of accomplishment -- in my opinion, a much better gift than any dumb bunny could bestow.  For Scott and I, Easter morning brought another batch of memories that will one day return to me brought on by the cheerful chirp "HAPPY EASTER!"
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