Hiding Easter Eggs

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

She was terrible at it.

We’d find the pastel-colored, plastic

eggs filled with stale candy months,

maybe a year or more, later.

Behind the curtains.

Under the sofa cushions.

Beneath the lamp shade.

Perhaps a family dog would eventually

alert us to them, or we’d get around

to cleaning, or be looking for something

necessary that we’d misplaced.

We’d say, “Count them first!”

We’d say, “Make a map!”

But, it never happened and we’d be

left to joke that we had a particularly

senile Easter Bunny.

We can lose things so easily.

***

“Be attentive,” counsels Mary Oliver.

***

Tomorrow, we’ll hide eggs for the kids.

Across the green lawn.

In the trees and shrubbery.

On the jungle gym.

When all is said and done,

the baskets filled and

the sugar coursing, we’ll pretend

to have lost at least one.

We’ll say, “That’s in honor of

Grandma Billie.” And, they’ll

think us nuts.

***

It’ll be our way of being attentive.

© 2015-2019/Jamie K. Reaser

From "Portraits" (a work in progress)

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