Once upon a time, I was a three-year-old lass. On Easter of that year, I had a spendid case of the chicken pox. I remember my body being polka dotted with pink calamine lotion. To this day, I hate itchies.
I remember standing at the window watching the neighborhood kids playing outside. I wasn’t allowed to go outside. I was contagious. Diseased. Held captive against my three-year-old will.
Easter was one of our favorite holidays of the year (only second to Christmas). The Saturday before Easter, our family dyed eggs together. Vinegar was a primary ingredient in the dye.
The following morning, my siblings and I would wake up at an ungodly hour and sneak out to see what the Easter bunny brought us and then reconvene in someone’s room to giggle the night away until our parents got up. We would run out into the living room to find baskets filled with candy around the dining table, each situated where our designated seat was for meals.
A stuffed bunny lay nuzzled in my Easter basket. It was love at first sight. I named him Twinkle. He fit perfectly under my arm while I slept. I took him to first grade Show-and-Tell. He would ice skate with me in the living room. Through thick and thin, Twinkle was there.
Anyway, our dad would then release us chillins into the wild of our house to let the hunt begin. Eggs under the couches, eggs on the window sills, eggs snuggled in plants, eggs behind picture frames. There were eggs scattered all over the place, each nestled in their own little spot, waiting for us to find them, crack them open and eat their insides. (Only the plastic ones filled with candy, of course. No little kid has a palate that actually enjoys the flavor of boiled eggs.)
We were ravage beasts. It was glorious. Whenever we found an egg, we’d run back and toss it in our respective basket. Twas always a competition to see who could gather the most treats. I love sugar.
Eighteen years later and Twinkle still enjoys sleeping with me. His pink cutie pie nose is gone, his ears are hanging by a thread, and his fur is a little jaundice. But his beautiful blue eyes still shine like the sun.
Grace and peace,