Friday, April 14, 2017

The Eggs and I

I love Easter.

It invokes wonderful memories of family gatherings. All my loved ones have passed on and the ones less loved have scattered to the winds. But, for decades before they leave, we enjoy Easter Sunday with food, lawn games, board games, flower picking, egg hunting, cooking and sleeping under the stars (weather permitting).

Until her death at age 98, my Grandmother is the glue. She bestows Easter baskets with REAL chocolate, plastic eggs and jelly beans. She prepares feasts: baked ham, fried chicken, creamed spinach, fresh corn and string beans, kidney bean salad and the Best Potato Salad in the World. 

In my childhood there are Easter egg hunts on my Grandmother's enormous flower filled yard. Sometimes the eggs contain real silver coins. Photos - me in pigtails and fancy pastel dresses, tiny lacy trimmed socks and shiny Mary Janes; my father in Cuban shirts with perfectly quaffed hair; my mother, cigarette dangling in black stiletto heels and cocktail dress; grandma always with food in her hands; a picnic table bearing the weight up the Easter Feast; ceiling scraping layer cakes. 

All those happy times and good souls deserve a lovely place on the wall, to remind me where we've been and where we still need to go.