Snippets of Easter












My childhood memories of Easter were always so sweet. The night before my Mom would roll my hair in fluffy pink rollers so that by morning I’d have bouncy curls to top a soft eyelet dress. Easter mornings were always sun-drenched, and it was a big deal to scavenge the dew dropped yard for our baskets, an even bigger deal when we’d hear the peep of small chicks letting us know that we were getting closer. I didn’t care about the chocolate at all when I could snuggle a (live) yellow chick instead. And then there was church- the smell of the sanctuary in the morning, everyone wearing their conservative Easter Sunday’s best. The special hymnals that were sung, crushed velvet banners with the words “He is Risen!” that swayed from the balcony above. Knowing that after church we’d get to see all of our cousins, eat honey baked ham…

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