I pad quietly down the long curving gracious front stairs, tiptoe through the foyer past the curtained French doors that lead to the formal parlor, and into the dining room. There on the table I am greeted by a line of six Easter baskets overflowing with fake green grass and all kinds of goodies. In the center of each Easter basket is a small chocolate bunny encased in a gaily colored box, the view through cellophane windows tantalizes my watering mouth, bunnies begging to be eaten.
Each bunny is slightly different. Some hold colored carrots or daisies in their paws, others have candy bow ties or hats or eyes. I locate the basket with my name on it, carry it to the living room and dump the contents, examining each confection and counting each jelly bean. I ration the supply in my mind, wanting the treats to last as long as possible. Then I put it all back, taking a small bite out of my bunny so no one else will be tempted to swap.
By now, other brothers and sisters are drowsily appearing, sniffing the delightful sweetness of candy hanging in the air. I whisk my basket to my bedroom. Time to wriggle into my new Easter outfit! Every year, Gram Appleby buys us girls "store boughten" outfits. We always get a fancy dress (usually with a gauzy overlay of pink or purple), a spring coat (also pink or purple), a straw hat sometimes decorated with little white cloth flowers, a pair of patent leather shoes (either white or black depending on how early Easter was), matching frilly lacy socks and a neat little purse, often the same patent leather as the shoes. I feel like a grown up lady as I pull the wonderful crinoline slip over my head and wiggle into all the duds. My hands fuss with tiny bead buttons and uncooperative little shoe buckles. But I have to be ready when Dad wants to leave or I will be left behind.
Off we go, sometimes just me and Dad, sometimes another sibling or two. We drive to the church parking lot, climb out of the station wagon, then walk the block or so to the ancient cemetery. We pick our way gingerly among the moss covered, crazily tilted, sometimes fallen washboard style tombstones until we reach a small clearing where others are gathered, shivering in the cold predawn air. As I stand there with chattering teeth and shaking limbs waiting for everyone to arrive so the service can start, I try to read the names on the gravestones. Many of them are worn smooth by years of weather.
I really don't remember much of what was said during the service. Some years Dad had tried to record someone playing the hymns on a piano with a small cassette recorder. Back then the quality of the sound was not good for music, and pressing the button brought such wobbly warbling music it was all I could do not to laugh out loud - it was certainly not very conducive to singing.
By the time the 20 minute service ended I was so frozen that my fingers wouldn't work and it was all I could do to walk back to the church. But walk we did, eagerly. In the fellowship hall we are greeted not only by comforting warmth, but the delicious fragrances of sizzling sausages, hot coffee and hot chocolate, fruit syrups and golden pancakes.
I loved to watch the cook pour a circle of white batter onto his huge hot griddle. The circle of yellow would soon form little bubbles that popped. That was the signal to flip the pancake, revealing the deep golden brown and causing the cake to rise fluffy and steamy.
Soon, Mom and the other kids would appear, all of them in their Easter finery. We would load our plates with sausages, bacon, pancakes, applesauce, syrup, eggs - everything and anything we wanted with no limits. Unbelievable for a household where everything was rationed to ensure that everyone got a fair share. Man, I would eat and eat and eat until the waist of my new Easter dress got tight. I just wanted to sit there feeling full and contented.
Soon, the little bell would ring signaling the start of Sunday School and I would tromp up the wooden staircase to the little room on the second floor where kids my age met with one of the women in the church to work our Sunday School manuals, reading stories from the Bible and answering questions. We always had a bigger class on Easter Sunday, and the visiting kids would be given a guest manual to work on. They were usually pretty clueless and we ended up helping them a lot.
Then the bell signaled time to head to the sanctuary. There the platform was swathed in lilies - tall leggy plants with two or three white fragrant blooms on each stalk. I can still smell the heavy perfume of all those flowers. Whenever I smell lilies, I immediately think of Easter!
The best part came after service. Mom would put a roast in the oven before she left for church, and we came home to the delicious smell of dinner just ready to eat. We usually had mashed potatoes, a vegetable, and dinner rolls warm and toasty. By the time we were ready to dish things up, Gram and Gramp arrived, their truck full of Easter abundance - fruits and cookies and cake and bread. And more candy, of course!
But the best best part was after dinner when the dishes were done and we gathered in the parlor, everyone stuffed and happy. The grownups chatted and we kids could sit with them and listen in. We sprawled here and there, draped over footstools and curled up on a pillow on the floor and just were together. The conversation was punctuated by Grampa's raspy laugh and Gram's exclamations of "Hub!" while Mom and Dad laughed. In between threads of discussion was that fulfilling silence where everyone was lost in their own thoughts. We girls fuddled with our Barbie dolls while my brothers played with cars and gadgets.
There was no hurry, no upcoming event necessitating winding up our relaxation. The afternoon passed quietly. Sometimes I was so sleepy I would tear myself away and climb the stairs to my bed to rest. Sometimes the weather was so nice outside that we moved to the front porch. But mostly we just shared each other's company and the respite from the weary world.
I love Easter. It is a time of friendship and family after the isolation of a long cold winter, a harbinger of better times ahead. All embroidered with chocolate and flowers. What's not to love?
No comments:
Post a Comment