Easter Sunday was always a big day for our family. We kids would bathe the evening before. We were called to wake up very early as we had the early service to go to. I would put on my brand new frilly dress. It usually was a taffeta in colors of white, blue or pink. I had matching socks with new black patent leather shoes that buckled. I also had white gloves and a matching hat.
We would all get in the car and then I would listen to Mom nit pick at Dad. I think back now and I am sure she was just frazzled. Getting up early and getting us all dressed and ready to leave was stressful for her.
On the way to church Dad would smoke his cigar in the car and Mom would tell him to roll that window down. He was choking her out. My brother and I would sit very quietly in the back seat ready for the drive to be over.
As soon as we arrived to church everything changed. We opened the double doors to be welcomed by the greeters. Mom and Dad had smiles on their faces. Everyone was fine once again.
We would go to the early service. I think maybe I drifted in and out of cat naps. After this service was over we would race down the steps to the church basement. There would be waiting pancakes and sausages. I could smell the aroma of the maple syrup. It smelled so good.
After the tables were cleaned we would go back upstairs to the regular Sunday morning service. By then I was getting fidgety. I remember many times being tapped on the shoulder to sit still.
After church we would drive home. Mom would tell us to change out of our Sunday clothes and put play clothes on. She would grab the home-made pies she had made the day before and then we would run over to Grandma’s house. She only made two kinds and they were more for Dad than us kids. They were Pecan and Chocolate pies.
There we would see everyone. Cousins, aunts and uncles. One big family with lots of kids to play with. Us kids would always go outside to run and play. I can remember playing a lot of tag and hide and seek.
Then the call came to come in for dinner. There would be Grandma’s home-made noodles and mashed potatoes. I remember the pickled eggs that were always bright pink. There was always a big ham that my uncle would slice into pieces. There were deviled eggs too. There were always pies and pudding desserts. We never left the table hungry.
After putting our plates in the sink we would head back outside. Soon adults would come out and tell us it was time to find the eggs the Easter Bunny had hidden. It seems there must have been about six dozen eggs to find. But then again we had a lot of cousins.
We would bring all our eggs for the adults to check and if they didn’t count out to what was hidden we would continue to look. When they were all found we would take our wicker baskets back inside and then we were given our Easter baskets.
They were filled with chocolate bunnies and pink peeps. Brightly colored jelly beans and speckled eggs. All the candies were laying on top of fake green grass. We would divide the real eggs up and put them in each of our baskets.
We would go outside on the porch and crack an egg and eat it. We felt like big stuff as we guarded all of our goodies. I look at those plastic eggs they sell today and think back to the real ones we received. Mom would use vinegar and food colors and color each egg. She would use a wax crayon and write our names on them. It was fun cracking the egg open to see the outer edges colored in pink or blue or yellow.
Those sure were the days. Us kids would be tuckered out and we took Grandma’s bed or the spare bed and take a nap. Some of us kids rested our heads in our Mom’s lap and let the grown up conversation lull us to sleep.
What I wouldn’t give to share one more day like this together. I know I can not so I look to the heavens and tell them how much I miss them and love them.
Who I am 