Snow is never a good sign or acceptable on Easter Sunday.
Connecticut. Easter Sunday morning. A long, long, long time ago. My eight-year-old self-wakes from a night’s sleep eager to run downstairs and gaze upon the first sign of spring. Drum roll, please. The Easter Basket. Oh, how I loved that wicker container with the plastic green colored grass filled with everything that screams spring. That basket always was a show stopper and it never disappointed. Picture this: a fluffy bunny, cute little chicks, every type of syrupy treat concoction there was and my favorite, the endless jelly beans that would slither down and hide between the fake grass. The thrill I would get when I would unearth one more sugary sweet. I loved that Easter Bunny.
Ohhh and my Easter ensemble. I sprung out of bed and ran over to admire, to touch my new Easter outfit. Like a wedding dress waiting for her bride; hung on a hanger over my closet door, there she was, the white dress and white bonnet with a powder blue ribbon.
Positioned perfectly under this dress – my new white patent leather Mary Janes.
With – a – HIGH – HEEL.
I stared at my new attire and sighed, “this is beautiful.”
But first things first. The Basket. Sprinting out of my room, I ran past my bedroom window and whaaaat? I saw something happening outside that should not be on any Easter Sunday. SNOW. Not just a dusting, but the snowstorm of the century!
Horrified and crying, I sqeeked, “Noooo!” Remember, I am only eight years old. I ran to my Mother and cried, “There is no way that bunny was able to get through that storm!”
My mother consoled me, as only my mother, Jan could. She wrapped her arms around my little shaking body. I could hear her take a long deep drag from her ciggy and hear the sound of the rag fibers burning down as she inhaled her morning’s fuel. In her raspy New York accent, she replied, “Listen, not to worry, there is NO Easter bunny, I buy it all. Now go get those Mary Janes on your feet. We are keeping our brunch reservation that I had to pay for in advance, even if we are the only ones in the restaurant and have to hop to get there. WE ARE GOING!”
My Easter Surprise. The day I found out there is no Easter Bunny. Santa Clause or Tooth Fairy!
And that’s my time!