Longing ...

For a few moments today, I longed to be 10 years old again and to be in the backyard at Westmoreland ready for the annual Easter egg hunt. Grandma would have been saving her L'eggs nylon holders (remember how they were eggs?) all year in preparation. There would be eggs hidden everywhere ... by the paper trees, in the gazebo, under the slide, on the trampoline, in the garden, by the pine trees ... when your Grandma and Grandpa's yard is the size of a park, the possibilities are endless. The eggs would be taped shut with scotch tape, and sometimes they would have our names on them in Grandma's handwriting. Thinking back, I am certain that Grandma and Grandpa had even more fun watching us than we had hunting.

The hunt would begin, a backyard full of cousins of all ages; with big kids helping little kids find their eggs. Afterwards, Grandma would invaribly have a wonderful meal prepared, and there was a good chance there would be lots of desserts. We would stay and play and visit. There were not ever sad goodbyes, because we knew we would see Grandma and Grandpa again in only a few days.

Sometimes out of the blue, I am struck by the amazing childhood that I had.