From skiing in Canada to holidays in
London, Paris, and Barcelona, Easter has always been a time of heightened
memories and connections for me. Today’s
post is a series of Easter snapshots through the years. Have you had particularly memorable Easter time holidays?
At 12
Thanks to my relatively new stepmother, I got a fancy dress for church on
Easter Sunday. In the old black and white photo below, I'm in our backyard wearing the
ivory-colored lace dress, with a ribbon that loops around my waist
and ties in back. I’m standing a bit slouched, arms at my sides, half-smiling.
Really I felt too old for such a dress, but I tried to act pleased for the sake
of my stepmother.
I really wanted to be a hippie instead of a sixth-grader bound to elementary school.
I really wanted to be a hippie instead of a sixth-grader bound to elementary school.
At 18
I was coerced by my friend Janis into donning a blobby white Easter Bunny
outfit with floppy ears for the Girls’ League Easter Egg Hunt. I run around and try to act bouncy and
enthusiastic, but the little kids mostly ignore me. They are much more
interested in snagging candy Easter eggs in the grass. Janis owes me.
At 21
Jet-lag hasn’t stopped me from running around exploring
Paris, where I just arrived for spring quarter abroad. I’m amazed by the confections in the patisseries and confisseries I walk past.
Later I squeeze into Notre Dame de Paris Cathedral for Easter mass. It’s so crowded that we only make it 10 yards
or so past the front door, and my only view (but an awesome view) is up to the
soaring, vaulted-arch ceiling and stained glass windows. Later, some friends
and I wait in the rain at a phone booth in the Latin Quarter (pre-cell phone
days). The phone was broken by the Iranian students, so the rumor goes, so we
can call anywhere in the world for free. We meet a girl from Colorado College
in line who knows someone in our group, and I realize for the first time that
it’s truly a small world. I call my parents and wish them a happy Easter.
Age 23
This time around it’s Easter in London, where I’m spending
the semester. A nice woman I met at church invited me home for Easter dinner. At their flat I’m greeted by Corrine, her
husband, and her husband’s stepbrother David, who’s about my age and attractive
but shy. The husband is gaga over their cat and speaks to it in tones usually
used for infants. After dinner we all go for a long walk in a nearby park, then
return to the flat for tea and hot-cross buns. This is so English! Mostly I’m
grateful for their hospitality and kindness to a young woman visiting alone
from America. When it’s time to leave at the end of the afternoon, Corinne
presents me with a foil-wrapped chocolate Easter egg.
Age 25
I meet my siblings and their families for an extravagant
brunch at the Seattle Sheraton. Although my older siblings and I are not
particularly religious anymore, we still celebrate Easter for the sake of tradition.
While I’m gingerly holding my 4-week-old niece Lindsey, my sister leans to me
and says quietly, “You know this is the 20th anniversary of our mother’s death.”
I didn’t remember since I was only 5 at the time. I look into my niece’s sleepy
eyes and wish her a long and happy life.
Age 30
My boyfriend Dave and I escaped to Whistler Mountain in Canada
to ski, avoiding family obligations. Dave, a flatlander from Chicago, gets
sunburned, but I remembered my zinc oxide. We grab a couple Cadbury chocolate
crème eggs in celebration of the holiday and down them with a bottle of good
champagne after coming off the slopes. I am in love. With Dave. With life.
Age 34
Back at Whistler/Blackcomb in Canada for skiing with a
different group of friends. Dave and I broke up last year. I’ve just gotten a
layoff notice. A late-season storm has dumped lots of fresh snow, and we make
figure eights in the wide open Blackcomb Glacier snowfield. While I’m no longer
in love with Dave or even life in general, I’m in love with the moment, with
making fresh tracks. This year there’s
no sign of Easter. I brought a bag of foil-covered chocolate eggs to share with the group. They
drink more beer instead.
Age 39
My sister Anne awakens me at 6 a.m. by turning on the TV in
our hotel room, the day after arriving in Barcelona. I carried a chocolate
Easter egg from Seattle in my suitcase for my sister and am pleased when she
smiles at this gesture. After breakfast, we visit the Sagrada de Familia, a whimsical
late 19th century cathedral. What
strikes me about this Easter Sunday in Catholic Spain is how casually everyone is
dressed at the cathedral. I even see people in sweat suits. This is not the
Spain I visited in college, when women wore conservative dark skirts and
sweaters in public, hair tied back. Is this the Americanization of the world?
Just a few years
later
A few days before Easter and I’m trying to find some
special, Old World Easter culinary tradition to share with my stepmother in
Portland. The most authentic Italian deli in Seattle is not doing their special
Easter bread this year—they are too busy making fresh gelato for upscale
restaurants around town. I’m too busy to
bake anything myself. It’s a busy world—too busy. I’m looking forward to the
leisurely train ride to Portland, where I’ve not spent Easter for many years. I
promise myself to slow down and savor the rebirth and renewal that this
holiday, this season engenders.
I hope you do, too.
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