Monday, May 9, 2011

An Easter of the senses

Below is the post I was working on April 22, the day I had the stroke. Although I didn't get to actually post it, I am going to now. As I have learned so well  now may be my only opportunity to do so. So here is my 2012 Easter post . . . a little early.

Easter was here. I was three or four. In my childish perception, Easter was a complex holiday, wrapped in the mystery of a spiritual significance that was in the very air we breathed in our daily life.

It also induced an excitement that had the undersized, nearsighted (although that condition was as yet not recognized) child version of me quivering with anticipation. The eggs had been dyed the night before and were ready in the basket for uncles and Daddy to hide. Cousins would be there with their baskets and eggs.

My aunts and Mother, all exceptional cooks, would be bringing loads of favorite things to eat. The gathering that year would be at my Aunt Thelma and Uncle Reuben’s home on a high hill, in the midst of pine trees, way out in the country.

I don’t remember the drive. I don’t remember the numerous hugs and greetings that were always an essential element of these get-togethers. I don’t remember the meal before the Easter egg hunt. I don’t remember the explanation about the prize egg. I don’t remember the instructions about boundaries of where the eggs were hidden, that year in an area of pine trees where my uncle had burned the undergrowth to decrease danger of forest fire near their home.

What I do remember is my first step into that area, clutching my basket, empty except for the traditional green cellophane “Easter grass.”

To my nearsighted eyes, a fairyland stretched before me, enveloping me in waves of sensation.

The forest floor was a soft, pale purple blur punctuated with swaths of bright green grass.

I recognized, from close-up encounters, the glorious fragrance of all those violets that individually contributed to the pale purple landscape. I rolled the idea of the violets around in my mouth, certain I could taste them. Underneath and oddly complementary was a faint scent of burned-to-a-crisp vegetation.

I stepped forward and felt, beneath the green, the burned grass resist then give way, sounding a sharp crunch that blended with the sounds of cousins’ squeals and laughter.

I was immersed and ecstatic -- in Easter.

I don’t even remember the egg hunt. I do remember happy and hilarious Easters with my cousins when I was older. But that early Easter will forever be one of my most vivid childhood memories.


  1. Linda, you are doing so marvelously and so quickly after your stroke. To be back blogging this quickly is a very good sign. Continue your therapy as it really does wonders.

  2. What a lovely story, so sensory. And you are doing so very well, I'm so glad to see you start posting. I hope you will be giving us the details of your recovery soon, and tell us how you are.

  3. Yes, an absolutely lovely story and I'm so glad you are still with us to share it. I can't wait to read about your continued recovery.

  4. So well written, I felt I had a basket in my hand also.
    Do hope you are recovering nicely and will let us know how you are doing.

  5. such a wonderful memory, and on easter of 2012 you can share another memory with us, we will be waiting

  6. Ah, The Easter of childhood. Almost as good as Christmas. Loved those candy eggs, in your case violets. Dianne

  7. Linda,
    I just now found your posts!
    It's so great to see you back on line again! Seeing you back, tells me that you are getting better!

    Wishing you a continued and complete recovery! Take care.

  8. What a beautiful story of your childhood Linda! Thanks for sharing. I can't wait to sit one morning, drinking coffee and listening to your words of wisdom. We all (gcrl ladies) love you. See you soon!

  9. I love your attitude. Most people would have a stroke and feel sorry for themselves. You most on with your life with such ease. You rock.