i have written of Easter before. Several times. It is a hallowed, sacred day.
In the span of my life, it has been much celebrated in many ways.
Today, it has been quiet.
No sunrise service. i did walk to the top of my hill around that time of the morning and watched the white heat orb burning through the mist of the marine layer hanging over Mount Miguel. i had my moment, prayer i guess you could call it. Thankful, sober prayer.
i came down to another Maureen egg special with toast, fruit, and Tennessee Pride country sausage. We sat at our usual places at my great aunt’s oak table, looking out the window at the green lawn as the sun burned through. We read the newspaper with several cups of coffee.
i remembered previous Easters. A not too big Easter egg hunt at home upon awakening and scurrying down the stairs. Those egg hunts remain dim memories except i know i never fared well at the community ones. Perhaps i was too impatient. Sunrise service outside of MacFadden Auditorium in the cool but sunny mornings. Dressing up in our finest, newly purchased spring ensembles to spend most of the day at church. Big, big ham dinner (that’s the midday meal where i come from) in the dining room reserved for only the big family celebrations. For some reasons, the dinner rolls stick out in my mind.
i don’t remember Easter at sea except for my last ship. The chaplain made it a big deal, or at least as big a deal as he could with sailors who preferred to sleep in on the one day of the week they could do so. i do remember a number of Easters at sea when we raised the church pennant above the U.S. Ensign on Easter. It was the only pennant or flag we ever flew above the ensign.
Most of all, i remember Easter Egg hunts with my two daughters. The ones with Blythe were sadly few in the first years of her life. It was such a beautiful sight to see her dressed up in a pinafore dress with her beautiful blonde hair and carrying a real basket. She would laugh excitedly every time she spied another real colored egg hidden somewhere by her clever mother.
The hunts with Sarah were outside at first, usually confined to the courtyard. She behaved just like her sister when finding an egg. i guess that is pretty much a universal response for children on Easter egg hunts. The hunts here in the Southwest corner quickly moved indoors. Sarah’s mother delighted in her own cleverness in hiding the foil covered chocolate eggs. The Easter Bunny, or as he signed his nickname “E.B.,” began to leave a note each year, usually extolling Sarah’s behavior and telling her of how the others who left her notes on big days, Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy, shared his fondness for her.
Maureen is off to yoga. i have cleaned the grill. We had steak last night with a superb California Red wine from Shebang “without too much pretension” as the label describes it. I like pretty much any wine without too much pretension. Unlike my old grill, i am taking good care of this relatively new “egg” knockoff.
We are going to friends for dinner tonight.
i sit in my office with many tasks and other writing projects piled around me. The sun slinking low to the south is now in its glory. The mist and the clouds have burned off. The bougainvillea outside my office window is the healthiest it has been in years after the rain of previous months and somehow reminds me it’s Easter.
Sitting in my desk chair, i meditate, something i have found greatly calming, refreshing, and empowering in just the last six months or so. Again i had my moment we might call prayer. i think of my two daughters, son-in-law, and grandson. i know Sam had yet another successful Easter egg hunt in Austin. i suspect Sarah either participated with Blythe and her family or with one or other of the children she tends. i am happy for them.
The Easter Bunny didn’t leave any eggs for us here in the Southwest corner. He didn’t leave a note either. i checked.
He did leave something better.