The egg hunts. That's what I remember most. My sister and I would wake up in the morning, walk down the hall and wait patiently before we were allowed to start hunting eggs. As we sat there, I would sneak glances around the room, hoping to get a peek at an egg location. The hardest part was knowing that Shayna was sneaking glances too. Many people I know now, look at me in surprise when I recant this story to them. An indoor egg hunt? they'll ask. This is always followed by an explanation, that should Easter fall early in the year, my hometown ran the risk of seeing a snowfall. There is nothing harder than searching for eggs in the snow.
Once Shayna and I were given the go, we took off around the room trying to desperately to find the "lucky egg." My mom always painted the lucky one. The same way every year. Speckled. All over. We spent a few hours the Friday before Easter meticulously creating works of art on our eggs. The result was more or less an Impressionistic painting - colors running together on all sides of the egg. Rarely did mine come out looking anything like the masterpiece I had envisioned for it. Rather, I remember the egg dyes leaving spots all over my fingers for days. Much like my mom's lucky egg.
So the best places to look for the lucky egg? In between couch cushions or on the window sill behind the curtains. Hidden with the lucky egg were two coins, a quarter and a dime. The not-so-lucky sister received the dime while the finder of the lucky egg received the quarter. Ultimately, the prize for finding the lucky egg was bragging rights for the remainder of the year. Not that we were competitive or anything.....though I'm pretty sure I won most of the time.
