The first Easter egg hunt occurred without people. It was done by stealth, cunning, and scent - completely in secret. Arriving home from church, the family opened the door and found two dogs nibbling on spilled contents of plastic Easter eggs. Smelling goodies, the dogs searched and found eggs hidden in an Easter basket under the piano bench. They sprung them open with their paws and teeth, and ate all the jelly beans including the black ones. The undamaged eggs were filled with coins and hid outside.
Peeping through the bright yellow forsythia, two eyes spied one of the purple eggs nesting in its branches. Two arms stretched to reach it placing the egg in a straw basket filled with Easter grass.
“I found another,” the excited scream came from a little girl dressed in a bright red and purple flowered dress. Her black Mary Jane’s were scuffed at the toe.
The ribbon that held her hair had slid to the side of her head. Other boys and girls in Pasadena raced around the lawn searching eagerly for plastic eggs. The obvious ones were still in plain sight, for some reason not to be spotted by a child’s eyes.
Grown-ups smiled watching the fray. Contentment from the meal of ham, Angel’s coleslaw, German potato salad, green bean casserole, and coconut cake was evident on their faces. Easter hymns replayed in their minds. Memories of past Easters brought laughter and smiles - women and children with Easter bonnets decorated with feathers and ribbons parading on Charles Street. White lace or cotton gloves were essential.
The children settled in the grass like butterflies on flowers when the call came from inside.
“Who wants to pick an egg?”
Scrambling to their feet, they raced to the house.
“How do you know which egg has the hardest shell?”
“Just tap it lightly on your teeth.”
“I’ve got mine. Points first.”
Little hands stretched tightly around the colored hard boiled eggs, only the points showed. Smack. Smack.
“I can’t get to your egg. Your hands are hiding it.”
“Yes, that’s the point.”
Crack.
“Oh, I lost. My shell split.”
“Now butts.”
Eggs did a 180.
A dozen smashed eggs sat in the crystal bowl. Easter grass lay on the carpet and trailed out of baskets. A half-eaten chocolate rabbit stood alone in a cloth mater tow truck. Bits of shiny chocolate egg wrappers caught the last rays of sun.
Quiet settled over the home as the last car pulled away with arms waving goodbye and shouting, “Happy Easter”.
