Growing up, Easter was as thrilling to me as Christmas. There was always a huge basket full of candy and toys. Another basket full of eggs in gorgeous colors. I remember not wanting to do anything with my eggs because I didn’t want to risk cracking them. Finally, Mom started buying me plastic ones to hide and hunt so I could decorate the dinner table with the real ones.
I always wanted the most frilly dress my Mom could find, along with gloves, a hat, patent leather shoes, a shaw, and a little purse. Ironic since I now choose nothing frilly.
I remember one Easter when I was maybe 7-8. There was a tornado warning. Mom and Dad said if the sky got to looking any darker, we would have to get in the cellar of the house I live in now. Being a kid who loved my dolls, I vividly remember asking Mom if I could take my new Barbie doll and case. She said no, and I wanted to ride out any storm with my trusty Barbie in my own house. Lucky for me, it never got bad enough for us to seek refuge in the cellar so my Mom didn’t have to separate my Barbie and me.
I grew up in the era of the record player. I had a record with nothing but Easter tunes on it. All the kiddie songs were about Easter bonnets, baskets, bunnies, or baby chicks. I imagine my parents secretly wanted to break that record into several pieces, but they always let me play as much as I wanted to. I think I could still sing along with some of the songs.
When I was growing up, pickled eggs were a staple on the Easter table. Two or three weeks before the big day, my Granny and my Mom would each fix a big batch so they had time to get the flavor just right by Easter day. That unique purple/red color still says Easter to me. To this day, I fix up a batch for my Easter dinner. Tradition is very important to me, more so as each year passes.
I hope this Easter you are blessed with family and traditions to cherish for years to come.
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