When just a wee little lassie, I would occasionally get a surprise during the Lenten season. Some days after my nap my mom would have me go check to see if the Easter Bunny had come. I would scurry off to the back door, and there it would be: in a small chip wood basket, lined with green plastic grass, would be a blue, hard-boiled egg. Inevitably I would end up eating it for snack, blissfully dunking it in salt. This was always my favorite Easter Surprise.
We always decorated for Easter, in joyful anticipation of the holiday. Granted, our house was never as decked out as a Christmas time, but there was something about those Easter decorations. They were just so CUTE. All of the bunnies and chicks and softness were so pleasing to my young eyes. And then add in the random little surprise, that small acknowledgement that the Bunny knew I was there? Those eggs had a knack of making me feel so comforted, so loved.
Looking back, those surprise eggs were such a small thing. But that did not change how big their importance was to me. I grew up getting such joy out of those seemingly little things. Luckily, that trait has carried over into adulthood. Events don’t need to be overly produced to be enjoyable. Treats are not as special if consumed at the drop of the hat. Life moments don’t need to be shared and liked to be fun. Enjoying the little things seems to make life much easier, because I am not looking for the rush of the purchase or the hit of recognition. I see how special things are naturally, and don’t expect a big show.
Some days after my nap, I would tell my mom that we should see if the Easter Bunny came. If she did not think that a visit had happened I would convince her that we should look, just in case. I have yet to figure out how my mom always knew when that egg would be there. But the memory of that little thing from my past keeps the joy of my favorite Easter Surprise alive…speaking from experience.