Do you feel it too? For me, holidays always bring back memories of the celebrations of my childhood.
I can close my eyes today and see us so clearly. It is Easter. There is my family—Mom, Dad, Craig, Aunt Clara, Uncle Jack, and me—all in our farm house, sitting around the dining room table. It is set with Mom’s best china and the silverware that she kept in a velvet-lined wooden box except for special occasions.
We are all smiling as we pass the platter of ham, the sweet potatoes, and the creamed peas around the table. We are all incredibly, painfully young in my memory. It never occurred to us children that we would age and life would change.
We children are in our 60s now. We have gray hair and live a thousand miles apart. The older generation is gone, except for Mom, who is partially gone with dementia.
But the memories are not sad. Not at all. In them, Craig and I are hunting for the Easter eggs that Mom and Dad hid the night before. If Easter came early and it was still cold, the eggs would be hidden in the house. When it was jacket weather, like it is this year, we would have an outdoor hunt, our favorite kind.
I remember the year Mom hid a dozen hard-boiled, dyed eggs around the farmyard. Craig and I searched long and hard but could only find eleven eggs. Months later we found the crushed colored shell where, we assumed, a squirrel dropped it after eating the missing egg.
Easter of 1956 was warm enough to be outside. Here is a picture that Dad took of us with his beloved Argus slide camera.
In my Easter memories, we were all dressed up. In those times, Mom sewed nearly all of my clothing. She outdid herself with this dress for Easter of 1955.
I wish I had smiled for the camera. I don’t recall why I didn’t. It’s funny because in my memories, I was always happy. We all were.
Happy Easter to everyone from Home Sweet Abbey!