It’s odd to live in a house without any children anymore. I have teen daughters who no longer ask about Easter Egg hunts, petting zoos, or the kinds of activities we might do on an Easter weekend. We go to our church service and host an Easter feast for friends–and an Easter basket will still show up in the morning–but for the most part, the childhood part of Easter isn’t here.
Or is it?
I lay out two Easter Egg dying kits (mostly for myself). I boil eggs. I arrange a neat display of glasses for holding our dye. I even create a station for a new technique involving nail polish in warm water and a bag of golden shimmer paint. I call my daughters downstairs–like I have for all these years–and they arrive with joy. It’s like they were waiting for this invitation.
But you wouldn’t know it beforehand.
It’s the three of us diving right into childhood again. We dye the eggs, eat chocolate, listen to music, and laugh together. They wouldn’t have created the afternoon themselves, but when I did, they participated and loved it. And just like in years past, my husband peers in to comment on all the beautiful dyed designs.
And then I tidy up our Easter fun and return to the chores of the afternoon.
I guess that’s how it will go now. They don’t beg for the traditions; maybe they think they don’t need them anymore. But when it comes right down to it, they do.
And so do I.
