It’s Easter soon, as most of you know. It’s a big mess for me this year. My mother’s having dental surgery beforehand and has asked me to take her there and look after her when she comes home. That’s ok, ‘cept she’s organised it so I’ll have to spend more time at her place than usual. And now I can’t get anyone to look after my cat, so she’ll have to come with me, which will be traumatising for her and for me. Not to mention Mum’s neurotic little beast. To top it all off there aren’t any respite beds to dump my father in so that mother could come to my place. Sigh.
Anyway, none of that is the point of this post. I was talking to the Wonder Therapist about it this week and she asked, “What does Easter mean to you? What do you think of?”
Oh dear, more tears.
What do I think of? Aside from the smell of fish (which I’m not going into, for reasons already explained), I think of chooks and roosters made of cheap chocolate wrapped in coloured foil.
I think of my father giving said chooks to my mother and me, in a rare gesture of thoughtfulness. I’d get excited – coz what little kid doesn’t get excited about chocolate at Easter? Let alone when her b*st*rd father does something nice for a change?
But the excitement only lasted a second before my mother started complaining about the awful cheap chocolate and the ugliness of the chook.
Then I’d feel guilty, coz I’d liked the chook and the eggs that came with it, but obviously I wasn’t supposed to, was I? Man, so confusing for a little kid.
Other times I’d steal chocolate from the cupboard – the ears off a bunny, or the top out of an egg. I’d sneak them away and gobble them up; stuffing them in hard and fast so I wouldn’t get caught.
Caught or not my father would always get angry and storm off. He’d get drunk and that’s when the trouble really started.
So, umm, yea. That’s what I think of when I think about Easter.
But there’s good stuff, too. When I was looking for an image of the chook in my head I remembered some of the good stuff:
- In Prep (the first year of school) the Easter Bunny would leave foot prints for us to follow down to the oval where he’d left chocolate eggs for us to share! Finding the foot prints and the little pieces of Easter Bunny tail stuck in the fence – that was magic 😉
- I learnt more about this “magic” in Grade 6 when I got to BE the Easter Bunny. That was fun, too.
- Dying coloured eggs in school, seeing the pretty patterns that would emerge from the dyes.
- My grandmother making me an Easter bonnet for the hat parade. Pretty pastel pinks and yellows and greens.
- And these cute little chicks that my mother always gave me – though mine didn’t look quite as frazzled as this little guy:
Ah, this one’s more like it, only he was yellow. (I guess G**gle doesn’t run to pictures of fluffy little chicks from the 1970s!).
It’s nice to be able to remember some of the good things, as well as the usual things that spring to mind.