Easter was a big deal at our house. We spent weeks blowing the goop out of eggs and decorating them in a variety of fancy ways. We made cookies and egg-shaped cakes, decorating one big one for the family, and one small one for each child. We did it every year. Even when my brother brought all his roommates home from college for spring break, my mother sat them down at the kitchen table with icing tubes — squeezy cloth bags with fancy tips full of colorful frosting –and made each of them decorate a cake. She put everyone to work, and everyone loved it.
When my kids were little, I asked my Dad for the easter egg cake pans, and he had no idea where they were. But they were one of the first things I found when I began to pull stuff out of cupboards in the kitchen, just above the spice shelves, tucked in the back. I guess he never opened that cupboard. And now that my kids are older, I don’t really need them any more.
I was even more surprised to find, when going through boxes in the garage, two big boxes of easter decorations — our Easter baskets, paper mache eggs for holding jelly beans and candy, green cellophane easter grass, and, most astonishing of all, dozens of blown eggs, colored by little hands.