Today is Easter. (Happy Easter!) I called home this morning to wish my nephew a happy day and to ask him what the Easter Bunny brought him. He’s still very young. Of course he likes holidays gifts, but I’m still not sure what he thinks about the whole thing. He probably just wakes up in the morning every few months to find treats and presents.
If I were there, I’m not sure what I would tell him Easter means anyway. Today was one of the warmest, loveliest days we’ve had in Utah this year, and Z and I decided to go to the park. Every picnic table was occupied by large Latino families. There were kids running around playing soccer and riding skateboards down the hills. There was barbecue. It was really, really nice.
I wish that’s what Easter meant for my family. I wish that was the thing my nephew was learning about what Easter means. Growing up, we spent most holidays with extended family, or with the immediate family. They were always acknowledged and celebrated with food and gifts. But, right now, we’re all so spread out and disorganized that it’s hard to celebrate holidays the way we used to do. In a lot of ways I admire the families at the park, who have it together enough to plan to enjoy each other’s company at the park. It’s such a simple thing, but I now live in a world where that seems almost insurmountable.
Today I wished that I was with my family. I wished that I was closer to my nephew. I wished that we were all together. I don’t really get homesick very often anymore, but today I was. It doesn’t help that I’ve been reading a book by Sandra Day O’Connor about her time growing up on a cattle ranch. It has only made me miss home all the more.