Sunday, April 16, 2006


Cold. You’re cold. Warm. Warmer. Warmmmer. Ooh, you’re hot.

I laid with my eyes closed under my parent’s large olive tree while my mother sat on a chair nearby and guided my little sister in finding the Easter eggs strewn about the garden.

Hot. Hotter. Oops, you got cold again.

I don’t know when the Easter egg hunt became a hot/cold game, but I didn’t mind that it broke tradition because every so often the warm-warmer-warmer was broken by my mother’s laugh. Her laugh—like a crescendo of whispering angels—was worth untying the knots of tradition.

Lounging in the yard wasn’t something my family usually does on Easter, but the weather beckoned us outside like a mythological siren. And we, like intoxicated sailors, followed her call. We played games and listened to Oldies on a nearby radio and the sun sporadically peeked through the branches of the olive tree.

As I laid with pinched eyes under the tree, I listened to the sounds of JD and my twin sister talking about the church service we attended earlier in the day and my little sister squealing every time she found a pastel egg hidden amongst the hydrangea. And I heard my mother laugh. These sounds will be stored in my heart forever as they will serve as a conduit for happiness in the future. I want to remember the squeal, the laughter, the sound of rustling leaves. I want to remember Easter.

Happy Easter everyone!


Blogger c r y s t a l said...

Happy Easter, Jasmine!

Thank you for always sharing your heart. Your words are so inspiring!

God bless you, girl. My prayers are with you and your family.

9:43 PM  
Blogger Mike Colón said...

Jasmine, you have so much talent and I love reading your blog. Thanks for sharing from the heart. Also, I want to thank you for spending a week in Vegas with me and for all of your selfless help! You're awesome! Mike

1:14 PM  

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