Many of my friends spent the night before Easter much like the night before Christmas… getting their house ready for the early morning madness of making some treasured memories.
Their kids woke early and happily hunted for buckets of colored eggs and recklessly rummaged through their Easter baskets. Baskets, undoubtedly overstuffed with love and filled with traditional tot treats of jellybeans, yellow marshmallow peeps, solid chocolate bunnies, and classic signs of spring: sidewalk chalk and bubbles.
Those same friends will be pulling tangled Easter grass from the vacuum cleaner for months, they’ll find dusty jellybeans lost behind the couch, gone unnoticed until someone finds one and tries to eat it. Those same friends will be wiping chocolate from faces, furniture, and all household fixtures for days. The signs of Easter morning last longer than the basket raid. They just don’t last long enough.
The signs are all around my house, signs that kids don’t live here anymore.
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