Easter Sunday
Leo and I are excited about our Easter egg hunt. We are waiting together in a bedroom listening to the sounds of our parents hiding chocolate eggs in the living room downstairs. It's our first Easter in the big house, which means it is 1976, so I am five and Leo four.
I explain to him, "There will be chocolates hiding in secret places. Our job is to find all the chocolates, then we can eat some and save some for later." Leo's eyes are bright. "Oh, goody!"
Our parents call, "Ready!" and we run down the stairs, me in front. I run to the sofa, lift the throw pillow, and sure enough, there is a bright pink foil-wrapped egg for me. Then to the coffee table, where I lift a large wooden bowl nestled in a hollow of the carved wood. A bright green egg peeps out behind. I am elated.
Papa puts a hand on my shoulder. "Give Leo a chance, now. Don't take them all."
I look back at Leo, and show him the chocolates in my basket. "See, Leo? Now you find one!"
He looks around unsurely. Our parents urge him on. After a long pause, his face lights up. He walks to the sofa and lifts the throw pillow. Nothing! He looks at me, confused.
"Leo, I already took that one. Look somewhere else. Come on, where else can they be?"
He nods. As he moves toward the coffee table and reaches his hand to turn over the wooden bowl, we all sigh in frustration. My mother claps her hand to her mouth, stifling a giggle. I look at them, furious. He is SUCH an idiot. Will he ever learn?
For the rest of the hunt, my parents take turn assisting Leo by leading him to spots and revealing the candy so he gets a glimpse of it, then letting him "find" it for himself. "A-HA!" he exclaims triumphantly, snatching the egg, unwrapping the foil and popping it into his mouth right away. He is full of glee. Finally we are all having a good time together. Because he is slower, I still manage to find more chocolates than he does.
I am content with my full basket, and run upstairs to hide it in my room, where my brother won't be able to find it next time he snoops there. When I come back downstairs, my mother says, "Haven't you forgotten something, Sophia?" I am puzzled. She says, "There is one more egg for you. I'll give you a hint. What is something that you do every day?"
I know what she means. I walk slowly to the violin case, open it, and there it is: a small golden egg perched beside my violin bow. "Don't you think it's time to practice now?"
I am disappointed. I thought Easter Sunday meant I would get a holiday from practicing the violin.
