Even though the memories are still emblazoned in my brain – I find it hard to write about Easter Sunday. The childhood memories remain crisp and clear, but the sad memories quickly follow.
To this day, I still miss the hand drawn faces on the hard boiled eggs. My father drew them every year. He included “hats”, “hair” and little stands to proudly exhibit them.
As a child I looked forward to my hand drawn egg every year. Since I never had a mustache or a beard, the hair would be longer as my hair grew. I didn’t wear glasses until late adulthood – and low and behold, he would add my glasses to my personal egg! These eggs were timely.
When I married my husband who had a full beard, Dad would incorporate his beard on hubby’s designated egg. Then came our son, who also got his own egg each year. It was absolutely delightful.
Every Easter now, I long for a painted hard boiled egg from my Dad. Now they would show the maturity on my face. My husband and I will celebrate our 32nd wedding anniversary this year, I can imagine a “32” on an Easter egg as our present on Easter Sunday! Dad was so talented – his egg faces are only one example of this loving and wondrous man.
Who knows, maybe he could have drawn one with my book cover on it.
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