Easter, 2025

Now you know that Ms. Maggie June had to gussie-up for Easter and she did. 

"Oh, Maggie!" I said, when she came in the door. "I have to get a picture of you right now!"

"I made my whiskers with eyeliner," she said. And she did a very, very good job of becoming an Easter bunny if you ask me. 

Ooh boy. What a day. Started early. I got up and got the ham in the oven and people were already messaging this and that and before I knew it, it was nine o'clock and Jessie and her crew rolled up and then Lily and hers. I'd gotten the green bean casserole in the oven along with the ham and the collards were having their day two simmer. I'd set out the smoked salmon, cream cheese, mustard, capers and crackers. 
Jessie and Vergil brought all the juices and bubbly waters and champagne and orange juice and cold brew coffee AND a hula hoop. 
"Well thank GOD someone brought the hula hoop!" I said. I mean, it's just not Easter without the hula hoop. Am I right? 

And then things got busy with folks getting all the eggs, both real and plastic, ready to go hide and some of the plastic ones had money in them and candy while casseroles and quiches started getting heated up and for some reason, it didn't feel there had to be any rush or craziness and even though there was a LOT of food, it was nowhere like a Thanksgiving where it seems like every surface in the house is covered in dishes and dishes and dishes. 
It felt sane. 
And happy and sweet. 

Eggs were hidden and children exploded out of the house but it's really not the same as it was when they were littles and toddlers. It grows ever more apparent to me that we have passed through so many stages that happened so quickly while we had no idea they'd be gone before we could catch a breath. I am thinking about things like that a lot these days. Not exactly in a mournful way but in a bittersweet way and I realize that by golly I better not be doing too much time-tripping or I'll completely miss the stage we're in right now. 

Owen did not hunt eggs this year. 

Fifteen years ago, he was the one and only bebe and this is what he looked like. 

My little blonde-haired boy. The prince of my heart. 
When he came into the kitchen today I began to cry. Again. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I said, as I hugged him. "I'm probably always going to do this."

And I probably will. It's not just that he's gotten so tall but that he's gotten so big. He is man-sized. Big man sized. And I know that Gibson is just about to hit that growth spurt time too. Hell, Magnolia is going to be far taller than I am. As to August and Levon- they have inordinate height genes on both sides of their family and I would not be surprised if they didn't giraffe-up themselves one of these years. 

But back to the egg hunt- Jessie told the kids to act like they'd just found an egg worth a million dollars. 

And then the process of peeling and deviling the real eggs began. Many hands made light work.

I will no doubt be going to old southern lady jail soon due to the fact that not only did I make my filling in the food processor but I FORGOT THE MUSTARD! 
I am quite certain I've been reported. And the deviled eggs were not that good which just goes to show that you need to follow the rules. Less pickles, more mustard. 
Sigh.

And then everything was done and served up and everyone got plates.

I bought paper plates this year. And plastic forks. And paper napkins. This will also be put into the O.S.L. police report, I am certain. 

But oh, the food was good. Lauren's sweet potato casserole is the best in the world, Lily's pineapple and cheese casserole was magnificent, Rachel's quiches were life-sustaining and affirming and the collards were tender, the green bean casserole delicious, and the ham was a tribute to the royal and worshipped pig and its gifts to humanity in all of its forms. 

Yep. 

We ate outside at a long table although most of the kids ate on a quilt beside us. There was hot sauce and chili crisp and pepper vinegar and their milder cousins, the mustards and butters, salt and pepper on the table which all got passed. 

It was just an outstanding day and the cherry on top of the cowgirl was that those kidlings kicked every bamboo stalk they could find. 
There were times when we were getting things all ready that it was so quiet and peaceful, even with five children and ten adults. We all commented on it. Are the children growing up? 
Well. Of course. But the usual chaos and clamor were not in evidence. 

And yet it was all joyful in a quiet and peaceful way.

And on top of it all, Hank fixed my relationship with Hulu/Disney on the TV and I got to spend some extra time with May and Michael whom I never see enough. 

I love my family to...the moon... and back. 

The boy who made me a mother and the boy who made me a grandmother. 
Still and always my babies. 

And then, when everyone had gone home with leftovers and many hugs and many kisses, I finished up the tiny bit of the kitchen that needed doing (hurray for paper plates!) and laid down "for just a minute" and woke up an hour and a half later when Maurice came into the bedroom meowing to tell me that it was way past time for her afternoon treat and besides that- WHAT IN HELL WAS I DOING IN BED? WAS I DYING?

Mr. Moon is out in the garden making it the prettiest garden I've ever been associated with in my life. 

Oh. And let us not forget that it is also 4/20 today which was also celebrated by a few, a little way from the house, under the mulberry tree. 
Perhaps that is why our celebration was so very peaceful. 

Or at least, contributed to that peace anyway. 

Thank you to Rachel and Jessie for most of the pictures and thank you to all of my children and to my sweet man without whom this would not be my reality.

Love is all there is. 

I am so lucky. 

Love...Ms. Moon