Happy Easter! Since I’m doing birds, is there any bird more associated with Easter than the spring chick?
The cardboard box refers to the countless schools around the world that participate in the phenomenon of watching eggs hatch. I just love the excitement of little kids when the eggs come into the classroom. They are taught about what is inside and they learn they must wait 21 days for something to emerge. And thus begins the count. Each day you peak in at the eggs, they look the same day after day…and then one day there are tiny holes, the eggs rock back and forth, occasionally a peep sound comes from inside the egg. You know today is the day and yet hours go by as you patiently watch a little bird fight to free itself from its shell. Not much schoolwork takes place on this day because the excitement cannot be contained, all focus is on watching and waiting.
True to its word, 21 Days later, the chicks are born. An enigma kids can not really understand, yet have the pleasure of observing.
The mystery of life.
Oh, and then there is the following week when you get to hold them, they are fuzzy, they poop on the floor and all the kids giggle….It’s just awesome to witness the eyes of babes.
When I was in college, I bought my mom this little stuffed animal chick that chirped when you placed it in your hand. No big deal, it was Easter, it was cute, so what. As a college kid months go by before you return home again. Upon my return I found this little chicky by my mothers bedside – how cute. Years went by and I found this little chick by my mothers bedside.
I began to realize that the cutesy little stuffed animal chick had taken on more than a holiday token. Upon closer attention, I realized a photo of my sister and I in summer camp ten years before also graced the same nightstand. This was a little shrine. When my mother went to sleep and when she woke, these were the little things she glanced at.
Now that I am a mom, I have little items around the house too. There are two thumbnail sized monsters my son put in my shower. Each time I see them I think of him clogging up my shower creating a swimming pool and I gush with love for him. I have a miniature school bus in my windowsill. Each time I glance at that, I can envision my daughters smiley face as she sings “Here comes the bus” Instead of “Here Comes the Sun” from George Harrison of the Beatles. Watching her sing as the bus pulled away was one of those moments when you get outside of yourself for a moment and just see the absolute divine beauty in your life. A tiny school bus figurine can bring me there in my head.
So I think of my moms little Easter chick sitting on her nightstand. Dusty and nonfunctional with age and as a mother I now know, that this little chick probably makes her think of me. So when I think of the little spring chicks now, I understand just how much I am loved.
We don’t need silly little icons to remember one another, but over time, things get left around or behind and memories get associated with them. My mother doesn’t need the beat up chick that I’m pretty sure my little ones have gotten hold of and ruined by now anyway. Nor do I need little monster toys or a school bus.
As parents we are the vessels for these memories and for love. Nothing more is needed.
There is beauty in that.