Sentimental Journey An Easter to remember
My daughter and I dyed eggs, three dozen of them to be exact. We scattered them around the room in baskets with purple Easter grass. I'd made gift bags for the kids with chocolate rabbits, new shoes, and springtime clothes.
I put the turkey in the oven, and peeled a bag of potatoes to mash with sour cream and chives. The salad was finished. I could smell the stuffing cooking inside the bird. The carrots glazed beautifully beside its once-feathered friend.
The table looked gorgeous with a green-checkered table runner, mint green tablecloth, ceramic bunnies and fresh flowers. Even the napkins matched in a festive Easter egg pattern. My grandma's desert rose patterned dishes stole the show, in their pink and green flowered design.
I was smiling inside as I carried the extra chairs up the steps. After all, my sister and her family were bringing my mom along for Easter dinner.
"Open the door, Hazel," I commanded to the standard poodle, stationed on the top basement step. "Come on, you know how to open it." She paused and watched me struggle up the stairs, hardback chair clutched between two hands, salad balanced on the seat. The black hound looked down at me, perplexed.
