I got my parents some Easter treats today and left them on their doorstep. That’s the system we have now when any of us go shopping; if they need anything, we leave it on their doorstep for them.
I don’t know whether it was helpful to see them, or whether I miss them even more now. I have to keep reminding myself of how awful a thing this virus is, and why we’re doing this.
I arrived home and unpacked the rest of the supplies I’d bought. I’d got everything I thought I needed - but I hadn’t bought any Easter eggs for myself; it didn’t seem right really, like buying your own Christmas presents. And it hit me hard, there and then: I’m going to be alone the whole weekend.
I don’t say this for sympathy. I just think it’s going to be difficult, and of course not just for me. Easter was always hot cross buns and mini eggs in nests, my Aunty’s famous Easter biscuits, then chocolate eggs on Sunday, which you’d break apart with a happy snap, and then eat slightly faster than you believed you could. It was chocolate rabbits that my sister loved too much to unwrap, and candles and Lindt and cups of tea and creme eggs hidden around the garden. And it was always family. It was always people.
There’s a lot to miss this time. I wished I’d bought myself even just a small chocolate egg, just to gain the semblance of normal. But I hadn’t, and the whole process of going to the shop is now so long and complex, I doubt I’ll go back.
Which leaves me with a question. What am I going to do? Tomorrow, Good Friday, there’s no march or band at Forbury bandstand. There are no hot cross buns or mini eggs in nests. Then Sunday: no rousing chorus, no celebratory church or happy lamb dinner to have. No chocolate. Nothing. I’m going to have to figure this out for myself, by myself. And that sucks.
Well. Here’s what I’ll do, I think. I’ll call as many people as I can. I’ll face-time, I’ll zoom, I’ll WhatsApp and I’ll fb message. I’ll cook boiled eggs and pancakes, I’ll pray and I’ll take communion. I’ll sing and play and dance, and I’ll go to the park and be thankful for the sun. I’ll roll down the grassy hill if it’ll make me feel any better, and I’ll do my level best to make it the best it can be, chocolate or not. And you know, this time of year is all about God turning an awful defeat into an incredible victory. There is no darkness that doesn’t flee from light. So let’s make it as bright as it can be, and maybe He’ll surprise us all.
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