Easter then, Easter Now

A bittersweet reflection on the magic of childhood Easters and the sting of growing up.

“Easter Then, Easter Now”


I remember Easter in tiny shoes,
grass-stained knees and jellybean blues,
little hands dyed pink and gold
from eggs you swore you’d never hold.


Baskets bigger than your arms,
sticky fingers, sugar charms,
chocolate smiles and laughter wide—
I can still hear it echo inside.


You believed in bunnies then,
in magic tucked in hidden glens,
in pastel dreams and morning light,
in every wrong somehow made right.


I miss the weight of you on my hip,
your sleepy voice, your tiny grip,
the way you’d run, then turn to me
like I was all you’d ever need.


Now the eggs are just for show,
the house is quiet, soft and slow,
and time—so cruel, so quietly fast—
has turned my present into past.


But oh, my babies… don’t you see?
You never stopped being that to me.
No matter how tall, how far you roam,
my heart still calls your childhood home.


And every Easter, I hold it near—
those little giggles I still hear.
Not gone… just folded deep inside
where all my sweetest memories hide.