Easter. There are always memories. Holidays usually come complete with their own, but I’ve found over the years, I cherish different ones now in different ways.
Back when I was a kid I dreaded the early morning hours immediately after we found our Easter basket. It had chocolate. We had church. The candy could wait. I could hardly. Neither could my dad. He’d usually take one anyway, teasing us and tormenting mom. She wanted my little sister and my own nice new Easter dress, coat and hat chocolate free for church and going to Grandpa and Grandmas.