Last year was our first solo Easter. When we moved to Denver, we knew that our holidays would look a little different. We left our families behind for a solo adventure. Last Easter, we were driving home from our San Diego spring break trip. We stopped at the prettiest pitstop in Utah, soaking in the biggness of it all.
This year, like everyone else’s holiday, was different.
We stayed home. We cooked easy, favorite foods. We laid low and took our time.
On Saturday, we surprised the kids with an early mini egg hunt since Easter was snowy. The trails by our house offered a little better hiding spots than our backyard, which meant we needed to wear our masks. It was almost normal, for a little while.
The kids didn’t mind the mask wearing, surprisingly enough. It’s a big change, and I expected big fights, but they’re taking it in stride, like everything else.
We started our Sunday with a basket hunt. Wilson had been anxiously awaiting his Easter basket for weeks. He’d picked out a LEGO set at the end of February, and I’d picked it up along with the rest of our Easter supplies in an anxious shopping trip at the beginning of March.
We hid eggs in the afternoon, after a morning of playing and treat making and video games. The kids loved it so much they begged to do it again the next day, only harder. (With nothing but time, of course we obliged.)
It was a really wonderful day. A slow day. A quiet holiday. Holidays stress me out, the hustle and bustle and running and expectations. I hate rushing and obligations that come along with them. The compromises and the time shares. It was a slow, quiet day. Soaking in the people I love most in the world.