hunting season

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my childhood was nothing short of magical.

and a good portion of that magic can be attributed to my amazing grandparents.

from bike rides and trips to balboa island to feed the ducks, to jacuzzi time in the backyard and baking (and oftentimes making a big mess!) cookies in the kitchen, grandma and grandpa’s house was an enchanted land. an oasis. a refuge. where laughter and creativity were cultivated and where there was never a shortage of tyson chicken nuggets, fudgesicles and trident gum.

gpa and me feeding the ducks on balboa island.

and holidays. they were a big deal. christmas, halloween, birthdays, and of course, easter. in fact, i have very vivid memories of donning frilly dresses (or ears as evidenced below),

i was totally rocking the pulled-up pant leg before it was a thing. trailblazer.

eating handfuls of jelly beans and scouring the backyard for an array of pastel-colored plastic eggs to fill my wicker basket. no matter the events of the year or the day’s weather (or the maturing age of yours truly), come easter sunday, one thing was for sure. i was going on an egg hunt. and sure, the contents of the eggs have varied (from chocolate candies to quarters (VERY handy during my doing laundry in the dorms days) but the eggs themselves haven’t aged a bit (they must use moisturizer) and are still just as pearlized today as they were two decades prior.

this past weekend after showering the newest pending addition to our cousin brood, sistah (for you new readers -well, first WELCOME! and secondly, “sistah” = my cousin who is more like a biological sister than my aunt’s daughter) and i stopped by my grandma’s house on our way back down to san diego. and after discussing the details of the shower and a few recent developments in our personal lives, we were instructed to head out to the backyard. there, lying on the glass table, were two wooden baskets, one for each of us, and an invitation.

an invitation for our very own egg hunt. yes, even at almost a half century of years between us (yikes, i have no idea why i just decided to refer to our ages in this manner but boy does it make me feel old!), we were being treated to the very activity that had defined our childhood. and well, how can you pass that up?

armed with our baskets and our best “eagle eyes,” we were instructed to elect a side of the landscape (i chose the right, she the left). “there are eight eggs for each of you,” grandma informed. and naturally, seeing as competition oftentimes rears its head in situations such as these, we challenged each other to a duel. whoever could locate all eight of their eggs first would obviously earn the coveted title of “faster egg hunter this side of the mississippi.” it was ON.

it’s funny how quickly you are able to locate the first few eggs. before you know it, your basket is all but halfway filled. but it’s those last few. the last ONE particularly that proved to be my downfall. a solitary sunshine-hued egg had escaped my gaze and had cost me the competition. oh well, i chalked it up to my aging eyes and humbly accepted my defeat. the fact that all 16 eggs were found in their entirety was a win overall for there had certainly been many a hunt in years past where eggs had gone undiscovered, only to be found in july during a random game of hide and go seek.

once inside, sistah and i tore through the eggs, revealing their insides with each crack of the shell. jelly beans and cadbury eggs, oh my! and to balance out our sweet tooth’s plight, grandma had one more trick up her sleeve. she, in her clever ways, had also bought each of us a small bag of baby carrots and a tub of trader joe’s finest hummus. “rabbit food!” she yelled! (i know, don’t you wish your grandma was as cool as mine?) the perfect accompaniment to our saccharine supply.

we also each got a pair of easter egg-adorned knee socks which was perfect because, who doesn’t need more socks? is that even a question? we all could use them. how else are those piggies going to stay nice and toasty?

so my point (yep. it’s coming, don’t worry). grandparents are kind of awesome. so go hug yours today. and if you don’t live close enough to them to do so, at least give them a call. i am so awesomely blessed to have my gma as a big part of my life (gpa went to be with the Lord in oh-five) and hope to never take that aspect for granted.

plus, i mean, who else is going to give you an egg hunt at almost 27 years old?

love you bams (i know you’re reading). you’re wonderful and i love you to the moon!

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