Easter

As another non-eventful Easter has come and gone, I'm reminded of Easters past. Easter as a child was always filled with good, but chaotic memories. Good Friday always consisted of colouring the Easter eggs with food colouring and then attending mass for hours on end, while our purple and blue dyed hands looked as though we had just had a dance with death. Loving to cook and bake, my mother always had different, interesting things on the table. Every year she made a bunny cake, which I would happily draw the ears for. She even made a braided Easter bread basket one year; it was amazing. And then there were the freshly baked home made hot cross buns. In grade five we made Ukranian easter eggs with Ms. Greschner which are still sitting in the China cabinet at my father's. It was also usually the one time every year I would see 'Anna' (my mother's mother).

In high school, my aunt gave me a beautiful hand made wool sweater from somewhere in South America, that had shrunk when she washed it. It's the most beautiful combination of deep teals, fushias and navy blues. It's incredibly warm and itchy, but I've always called it my 'Easter sweater' due to the gorgeous colours and because it is perfect for a Canadian winter, in which there is usually still some snow on the ground.

I don't think I've spent an Easter at home since my last year of high school. In university, Easter always fell right when I was busy studying for final exams. I do remember one year however, when my parents drove to the city for the day to bring my brother and I some much needed home made sustenance and had to leave early due to a bad snow storm.

I've spent four Easter's out of Canada, the first being when I was 21 in Australia. I don't remember too much, except that I was at my boyfriend's house with his younger brother and sister and that it involved staying up very late with a bottle of Canadian Club rye whiskey and a bong shaped like Yoda's head.

When I was 25 I spent Easter in Belfast, Northern Ireland. I had just arrived and found a job at Arnie's Backpacker's and it was my first Easter after my mother had passed away the previous fall. I honestly don't remember alot of this Easter, but I'm sure it involved alot of drinks.

At 26, I spent Easter in Brighton. This Easter is surely the most memorable so far. I had to work at the pasty shop that day and was greeted with a smile by my Polish co-worker. He loved to cook and had brought me a Polish home made soup which his mother always made for Easter. I can't remember what it was called but i remember it had hard boiled eggs floating in it, and was salty and very tasty. I wish I could have returned the favour but the flat I was staying in had no kitchen in which I could cook. I'll save that story for a whole other blog. The day went by ridiculously slow as the shopping mall our shop was directly outside of was closed for the holiday and save for a few hungry window washers, we had no customers. I arrived home with my gifts of chocolate (from the poundshop) for my flatmates and a bottle of some cheap alcohol. It was about 5pm but the alcoholic was already passed out on the couch, beer can in one hand, burnt down cigarette in the other, the new Dr. Who blaring on the TV at a deafening volume. I joined the other flatmate in his room for a night of drinking and horror flicks.

This year, it did not feel like Easter at all. In the week leading up to it, I coloured Easter eggs with all the students. I was invited to go up to the Iwakuni castle (hiking, not by cable car) and politely declined, as hiking up a mountain in 30 degree weather and 65% humidity with an irritating, know-it-all, arrogant American and his racist , homophobic sidekick is not my idea of a good time.

Who knows where I'll be next Easter, who I'll be with, or what I'll be doing. Perhaps somewhere in South America where everyone goes all out with celebrations. Or perhaps still in Japan where it's just another day for most of the population. All I know is, none will ever compare to the memories I have of Easter as a child.