I warned you

I don't know what it is, but Easter makes me get all crazy. I don't have a basket, haven't colored eggs in years, and have only been to Mass to take my mother once or twice over the last many years. For some reason, yesterday in the car I found myself saying "This is the Lamb of God; happy are those who are called to his table." It made D a little nervous.

Maybe it's the buildup to Easter that strikes a little cord. After all, as a Catholic school kid by the time we got to Easter it had been all those many weeks of madness and deprivation that began with Ash Wednesday. By this I mean extra Masses attended as a class. If you think the Mass is anxiety-inducing, try going with 25 other kids and a nun times 24 (roughly the student and nun population of St. John the Evangelist School).

Whatever the reason, Easter brings back so many memories. Some highlights include:
the year I asked for and received white chocolate, never to ask for it again
the year I received a sugar egg that had a peephole and a sugar-crafted scene inside
the year I took my own missal to church. Yes, it was titled My First Missal.
the many years I wore a new no-sleeve dress to Mass because it used to be warm on Easter
the year (this is a big one) a new rabbit coincided with Easter (Falfee, short for Alfalfa)
the big meal after Mass, then my grandfather sitting in his lawn chair on the sidewalk, telling the neighborhood kids stories)
the year I put chocolate eggs on brother Stephen while he was sleeping as a treat, and he woke up to think he was covered in dried blood. I was actually doing it to be a nice sister, but he didn't believe that
all the years that we ate all those giant leg 'o lambs, as their referred to in my family

Told you it would be sappy.
Happy Easter