#easterdisappointment

[theaquarianphoenix]

                   A bucket of jellybeans

This is my year. I just know it. FINALLY! It’s going to happen!

It’s Easter Sunday. And we are all here. At my Grammie’s farm house. Me and my family. And all my aunts and uncles and cousins. There are a lot of us.

We are lined up. Us kids. Next to my Grammie’s porch. There is a purple egg. In plain sight. Sitting on the pole. On top of the clothesline. Who will reach it first?!

My uncle says the words… Ready. Set. GO!!! And we are off!

My older cousin is already climbing the pole. He’s going to get the purple egg. Because he is bigger and stronger than me. But it’s ok. Because there are lots more eggs to find. They are hidden. Everywhere. All around my Grammie’s farm. And there are so many hiding places! The yard, the garage, the smokehouse, the barn, the pond, the fields, and on and on.

So, I make off. On my own. To hunt.

But, it’s not the eggs I am thinking about. Nope! There is something bigger. Something better. Something I have always wanted. Forever and ever. For as long as I can remember. And this year. I have a real chance. Because, for the first time. The Easter bunny came to Grammie’s. And I can feel it. I’m going to get one. A REAL Easter basket!

In case you didn’t already know, a real Easter basket is big. And woven. With colors of pink and yellow and blue and green and white. Inside it, are lots of different Easter chocolates. The chocolates are wrapped in pastel-colored foil. In the shape of eggs and bunnies. There is green and pink Easter grass. Tucked inside. All around. And some of the grass pokes out on top. And the candy is pressed in. Entangled. All around. Mounds and mounds of it! The basket is full of interesting gifts. Like colored pencils. Or new shoelaces. Or a stuffed animal. Or a cassette tape of my favorite music. But most importantly. There are NO jellybeans! Absolutely none.

You see, I hate jellybeans. I mean, I really, really hate them. I hate their grainy, sugar sensation in my mouth. I hate the way their chewy, jelly center sticks to my teeth. I hate their yucky, weird, neon, artificial colors. And, I hate the way they taste. Cheap. And dirty. Like they were already sucked on. And spit out in the sand. And left there to crystallize. In the hot, hot sun.

And that is why, I truly don’t understand the Easter bunny. At all. Despite my very strong feelings about jellybeans. He keeps bringing them to me. Every. Single. Year. Like liver and onions for dinner. Or the way my dad puts raw, shredded potatoes in my pancakes. YUUUUUCK!!!!

I mean, isn’t the Easter bunny supposed to be all knowing? Like Santa Claus? Doesn’t he hear my prayers? Doesn’t he know how much I despise jellybeans?

I just don’t understand.

And, it gets worse. He always delivers the jellybeans in the same, old “basket.” And, it’s not a basket. It’s an empty ice cream pail. And once, an old, Tupperware bowl from our kitchen. There’s no colorful, plastic Easter straw. To make it pretty. Or special. It’s just. Empty.

Why does he bring other kids a real Easter basket? A special Easter basket? Why do I get a bucket? A castoff. A piece of trash. That rattles with the very things I dislike the most?

Do you see it now? My dilemma. My confusion. My pain. My why?!

But, not this year. This year. Is my year.

I am determined.

I have searched the entire yard. The barn. And the garage. To no avail. I am anxious. But still resolved.

So, I continue on. And walk past the smokehouse. To its side, is a large propane tank. Grass is sprouting up. In shaggy tufts. All around it. As I get closer. I catch a glimpse. Of something shiny. And plastic. Glinting. In the sun. I rub my eyes. And squint them tighter. Into focus now. Can it be real?? Can this truly be happening?? I hold my breath. And there it is.

My heart is pounding. The ecstasy! In my view. The woven basket handle. Brilliant with pastel colors!!! The Easter goodies. Delightful and abundant. And bursting over the sides! The Easter straw. Radiant and pink. And fluffed up all around! Like a collar of peacock feathers! And on the very top? A stuffed, yellow bunny!!

Out of the sky. A beam of light. Shining down. On the basket. Like a gift from the heavens. My heart is exploding! And shooting off rainbows!

I run. Toward the light. Toward the basket! MY BASKET!!!!! My legs and arms sprout wings. I am a beautiful, orange butterfly. A fire in the sky!! Music now. Playing loudly. From nowhere. And yet, from everywhere. “Chariots of Fire.” A symphony. An opus. From the universe. To memorialize this one, long-awaited moment!!!

I am almost there now. My basket. Is… so close. Almost in my grasp. I can taste the sweet chocolates. I can smell the artificial, pink grass. I can feel its scratchy woven sides in my arms! I will lift it high and dance. Like a wildflower in the wind!

And then…

Out of nowhere. One of my uncles. From inside the smokehouse. He yells. With his arm out.

“Stop! That. Is. NOT. Yours!”

Vertigo. Dizziness. No sound. Just blackness. Blind. I am blind! Dirt. On top of me. In my mouth. Buried. In a hole. There is no air. Please, God! There is no air!

A short time later. I find it. My Easter basket. The one the Easter bunny intended for me. It's a ratty, old, Tupperware bowl. And they are there. Like some graveyard of brittle, yellowed bones. Jellybeans. Lots and lots of jellybeans.

Did I ever tell you that I hate the Easter bunny?

And, more than that, I hate jellybeans.