Easter in isolation

Last year, from about October to January, Viv kept insisting that I forgot Easter. That we just hadn’t done anything. This is absurd, because I have favorite local Easter egg hunts (we did several), for the first time ever we had nearby family and we went and stayed at their house where we opened Easter baskets, and I am a person who takes a billion pictures. “No,” said Viv, looking through my camera. “That was the year before last. You forgot to do anything last year. It’s my favorite holiday and you forgot it.”

I promised that 1) no I DIDN’T forget it but also 2) we would be sure to make this year good.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we are in a global not-good Easter. Four or five months (two weeks?) ago, I stood in front of the Easter display in Walmart and cried. Is this really what Easter is going to be like?

No Easter egg hunts, no visiting the Easter bunny. No point putting on Easter dresses or even brushing our hair. Zero.

Except that isn’t true. Last week, we drove around town, dropping off surprise Easter baskets at Sonya and Viv’s friends’ houses. Since then, we’ve “been egged” three times, and we’ve egged friends back – ambush them in the dead of “nobody’s looking out the window” day, set up secret Easter egg hunts in their front yards, then peel out of the driveway before they even know what hit them.

Easter egg hunts, in our own yard, with only your sisters and a ton of eggs. It’s kind of magical.

I was trying to figure out how to make the Easter bunny happen – could I figure out a costume?? – and remembered that my neighbors have real-live rabbits. They are staying home, we are staying home, the risk of mingling is not zero, but it’s low. Does Covid live on animal fur? It seems like less risk than grocery shopping. I set up a fenced-in area in our yard, the neighbor dropped off the rabbit, the girls got dressed up and we did a mini photo shoot.

I wonder, constantly, how they will remember this time. Will they recall mama stressed, worried, and angry, papa working overtime in his home office, no friends no cousins no parks no zoo no museums? Or will they recount the puzzles and the board games, the hours and hours of playing with dolls together, learning to ride a bike and jumping on the trampoline until sunset?

Sonya was FaceTiming her cousin, and I overheard her talking about Easter. “Yeah,” she said, “a real rabbit. This is the best Easter ever.”

I wouldn’t go that far. But at least nobody can accuse me of forgetting it.


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