Easter 1987

1.

I can't find the eggs.
Kathy has like a million of them in her basket, and James has a bunch too, but I can't find any. I really want to cry, because I really want to find one, but if I do I know they'll make fun of me and Mom will get mad. I looked behind the couch once already, but I look again, to make sure, and while I'm on my knees behind the couch, Kathy jumps up on the cushions, and looks too, and right above my head on the windowsill there's one, behind the curtain, and she grabs it. She grabs it, and I say, "It's not fair!" And she says, "It is too fair- I found it." "You didn't let me look there, you should have let me look." "Stop being a crybaby. I found it. Go look somewhere else."

I really want to cry now, big time, because I'm the littlest and this always happens. They're bigger and faster and they don't give me a chance and I hate it and they get all the good stuff and it's not fair.

2.

The rain taps gently against the picture window. The forecast on Channel 5 called for scattered showers and the one on Fox Action News said it would be partly sunny, so Beth had vacillated between taking the risk and having the Easter egg hunt outside or playing it safe. In the end, inside was the best decision, clearly, but it took some of the fun out of it, didn't it, thought Marge.

She sat in the velveteen armchair where she had been settled by a too-thoughtful Martin and watched the children tear around the living room. The smallest one was close to tears, as her siblings snatched up every egg, leaving none for her. Her lower lip was starting to tremble, and she fidgeted with the plastic grass in her basket, trying to regain her six-year-old composure.

Then Marge spotted a sliver of blue behind a decorative plate on the sideboard. She stared hard at the child, willing her to look up. As if on cue, the little girl did, and she looked at Marge with her big red eyes. Almost imperceptibly, Marge shifted her cane toward the sideboard and raised her eyebrows, The child turned and looked, and a wash of realization went through her. Not wanting to call attention to the newly discovered egg, and with all the subtlety a tiny girl can muster, the child sidled with a casual air over to the massive oak sideboard and grabbed the prize.

A warm feeling infused Marge, and the smile of triumph she shared with her smallest grandchild began to make up for all of the indignities of the afternoon- being picked up late from the nursing home, all the family so obsequious and pandering, speaking too loudly to her, as if she couldn't understand them...the grateful child made up for them all.