Tonight, as I clean my kitchen, and think about where I will hide those Easter Baskets this year, I am missing her so much. Funny how it hits you when you least expect it. I remember that she used to crochet Easter Baskets from yellow thread, and she crocheted matching eggs in pastel colors to fill the basket. She would use lots of foamy whip cream and colored coconut on all the deserts. My new Easter dress would be pressed and hanging on the back of my closet door. And the shoes — I couldn’t wait to wear those new shoes with my new tights.
I miss waking up in the dark, my Father wearing his dark suit, and we all sat in Church together as the sun came up. Then, to the fellowship hall, where women had already been up hours before making scrambled eggs, bacon and pouring juice.
This is what I miss on Easter Eve.