One family tradition I enjoyed as a child was Easter Sunday. It was a time for family and fun. We would all dye Easter eggs, and mom made sure that each of her five chicks had at least a dozen eggs to color. Coffee cups held the many colors of green, yellow, purple and pink, and I always loved the fact that the inside of each cup remained a lovely Easter shade until the color slowly faded away until the following year.

We would all gather around the kitchen table, excited, and everyone would start talking at once. My brothers tried to prolong the egg dying experience for as long as possible, and well, sometimes their eggs would turn out to have the strangest colors imaginable. My eggs, on the other hand, reigned supreme with soft regal pastel colors. Some had polka dots, or rabbit faces created with coloring crayons and then dye. But no matter how they turned out, we enjoyed them, and my mama would make us feel like we were little Michelangelos in the world of Easter Eggs.

When I was younger mom would sometimes surprise me with a new Easter dress. One year, I received a soft lavender dress with large polka dots. She also purchased a hat, a handbag, white gloves, and shiny white shoes that completed my ensemble. The tomboy was quite smitten with her girly outfit, and I wore it for most of the morning until it was time to go outside and roughhouse with the boys.

One year my dad bought me a pair of roller skates for my Easter basket, and I was thrilled!  Several weeks before Easter, someone had given me a pair of hand-me-down- rollerskates that were several sizes too large. I had to stuff socks in the toes of my skates to help them fit just right. Since they were huge, I was a little wobbly as learned how to skate for the first time. But in short order, I was racing up and down the sidewalk with my first pair of skates. On Easter Sunday, I was so excited to find a brand new pair of skates that actually fit. My dad was pretty proud of himself for buying those skates for me, and I was quite taken with my new gift.

Every year, mom would make a wonderful dinner. We would usually have a glazed ham with a pineapple topping. She would make scrumptious side dishes and have a festive dessert. And of course, with so many Easter eggs, she would also conjure up her famous deviled eggs.

Often my grandparents would also attend. One year, I remember, my grandparents in the kitchen giggling like a couple of teenagers. Now, I loved my grandparents, but they were not very affectionate with one another, well at least not in front of the family. In fact, the two, well, squabbled at times, and I sometimes wondered as a child if they genuinely even liked each other until I was older and realized that was their normal.  But that year spring had sprung, and love was in the air. We were all standing in the kitchen. My grandparents had just arrived and were settling in when out of the blue, grandpa called my grandma his “honey bunny.” She giggled and blushed like a school girl, quite taken with his words. Laughing sweetly, she asked,”Did you hear what he just called me?”

The family was surprised, but we laughed at this touching scene.   I was happy to catch this loving glimpse of my grandparents. It was an Easter treat that I have cherished over the years.

So many fun filled years of sharing our holidays together. When I reminisce about those days, I have always realized how much I was blessed to share those moments with my family. Those were treasured days that led to priceless memories.