When I was about three years old, my mother divorced my biological father. She and I were on our own, and when Easter came around, she made it the best Easter she could for me.
When I woke up on Easter morning, there was a basket filled with Easter eggs. They were all colored; pink, blue, yellow, green; they looked so pretty. Of course I had to eat one, and was surprised that it was a hard-boiled egg; not chocolate. I was disappointed because, like most kids, I wanted candy.
Mom came into my bedroom, and saw me eating an egg. I said, “Mom, these are just plain old eggs, not Easter eggs!” She replied, “but they are magic eggs; only magic eggs are colored.” Well, I believed her, and ate my eggs.
Years later, Mom and I joked about that Easter and the “magic eggs.” By then I knew all about her divorce, and how hard she had to work to keep us going in our little apartment. When I think of that Easter, I now think of how hard she had to work to keep us safe and fed. And even after a hard day’s work, she still found the time to make colored hard-boiled eggs for me for Easter. While Easter is a time of love, joy, hope and reflection, it is also a sweet remembrance of a mother’s love and sacrifice.
Happy Easter, everyone!