There are three lasting memories I have connected to Easter. In order of longevity they are:
My mother always put a hard boiled Easter Egg in my shoe. Nancy continued this after Mother died. This year, I let her off the hook, saying that being sixty was old enough to retire the tradition. I have a feeling I am too late. It’s probably already planted. I was reminded of this after she delivered a solid chocolate Easter bunny to a neighbor, who is 30, as a favor to her mother who was going to be out of town.
I thought the business I worked for should have an Easter Bunny to create some goodwill. Nancy loves this kind of stuff, so she volunteered to be the bunny. “That was so fun, I wish we still had the costume,” she just said. She just wandered around downtown on Saturday and made kids eyes light up. On Easter Sunday, she made deliveries to the kids in the neighborhood.
If we have visitors for Easter, Nancy always colors eggs. Amy and SIL came on Easter, so she got busy and was boiling eggs when she remembered and errand and left the house. We came home to a house full of blue smoke, the pan had boiled dry and two dozen eggs had exploded. Appropriately, we had an egg crate false ceiling and the eggs blew through to the solid ceiling above.
Today will be relatively calm, unless we have an explosion related to her appointment Monday. This could be another memory-making day!