Egg hunting

Nothing says Easter (and Spring! and yay! and seriously, no more snow, promise, promise, promise?) like watching swarms of kids run around a sea of brightly colored eggs.

This was our girl’s second egg hunt and I love that this has now become a tradition for us. I don’t have any memories of hunting for eggs as a child. It just wasn’t part of our traditions. But I love that it will be for my kids.

Traditions are funny that way. I’ve noticed, as I’ve grown up and started my own family, that there is a balance between doing things the way my parents did them as I grew up and doing things my own way. Taking off to blaze my own path. There is comfort in the familiar. The closed loop of growing up in a tradition and dreaming, someday, of carrying that tradition on in my own family. And then there is wanting different for my own kids. There is wanting to put my mark on things. There is even, a little bit, of living vicariously through letting my kids do the things I always wanted to do.

In some ways, through our kids, we live out the childhoods that we pined for when our feet wouldn’t reach the floor at the dinner table.

Last year, we went to an egg hunt put on by the county. It was big and crowded. Beautiful but intense.

This year we live in a neighborhood that hosts events like egg hunts and Halloween costume parades. It was small and tight-knit. Beautiful and simple. I love our community.

After the hunt, we grabbed some snacks and a picnic table and mingled with neighbors. Kids ran and played while adults caught up and chatted about gardening and planned future trips to the park. Jackets were peeled off and Fall babies continued their budding courtship with sunshine.

Yes. We are ready for spring. Ready to peel off the layers, step into the sunshine, and start anew.

Hope your weekend was full of sunshine and fresh air.