With Easter right around the corner, I’ve had numerous hits on this article and requests for a “reblog”. Thanks for the encouragement!
The aroma of vinegar hanging in the air. Shades of color staining once pristine hands. Hard-boiled eggs placed neatly into the egg crate. No doubt, dad will “accidentally” send an egg crashing to the floor. “This one cracked. Don’t want to waste any.” He peels the shell and reaches for the salt and pepper. Children mystified at the transformations taking place before their eyes.
As a child, we never colored eggs in my house. It was not because we didn’t celebrate Easter or dislike eggs. I really cannot say why. Perhaps, because there were four kids, mom, and dad listened to enough bickering without giving us an actual reason to feud. I am sure my parent’s foreseen glimpses of name-calling, poking, and children thumping at one another.
I grew up believing only people who lived on farms hunted for hidden colorful eggs on Easter. Many of the holidays in my…
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