Oh My God Easter!
How I love Easter!! It is the Christian commentary on
renewal, rebirth, and reinvention. I am all for all of these things. Every good
novelist knows that these are consistent topics of fascination for people. We all want to be different people
sometimes.
And, the best part is it happens every year. You don’t like something? Change it. You can do anything for a year to try it out. Can’t make your New Year’s resolutions?
Try again on Easter.
The bright spring flowers and the
sunshine colors all argue for coming out of the darkness into the daytime full
of surprises and decisions to do things differently. I love this day.
About fifteen years ago, my
roommate Amy and I, both desolate about being in graduate school so far away
from our families and home churches, decided to have a Easter for each other
and the other women we had come to befriend who were also alone and away from
their families. Thus was born the
first Easter Chick afternoon, wherein my girlfriends and I have a potluck meal
of some kind, and bring treats for each other’s baskets. If you bring chocolate, it has to be
the good kind, not the eggs that you buy in the grocery store. We gave each other lip smackers and
nail polishes and erasers, things that children would be delighted by. And we were too. We each lead one of the others on a
scavenger hunt to find the baskets, and then ate brunch while giggling and
playing with our toys.
I still hold the tradition, and the
only other original member flew down that first weekend to visit me. She has come every year since (except
last year when she was sick as a dog) and I hope comes every year that I hold
it. Another woman has come for
thirteen years, since I met her, and the fourth and fifth women have
interchanged throughout the years.
If you get invited once you are always invited back. But people move on, get married, have
children, or whatever, and so, it is me, Kdub (who has been married but returns
still), Floryfae (who is both married and has two children but makes it work
anyway), and whoever else comes. We spend as much time in whatever garden I have created that we can. I have to have my hands in the dirt and have created some truly amazing gardens in the places I have lived.
This year we held it later in the
afternoon with gin and tonics, strawberry wine and finger sandwiches. We were a group of tired, slightly
older women all of whom have some serious shit going on right now. And it was a warm afternoon, a mellow
atmosphere, and good company.
Somehow each year, it morphs into what we need it to be It was a relief this year to be able to
finish puttering between church and when my girl came.
I used to think by now that I would
be married and have a child or two wandering around and send my family off to
the movies while the girls came.
It hasn’t worked out like that.
I haven’t found my life partner yet, and may never have children, I am
trying to finish my novel, and have finally learned not to count on much
because God always has a slightly different plan.
But Chick Easter? I can count on my girlfriends and their
love on this sacred day. And you know
what? That ain’t bad.
