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(A new blog post is up. Link is in my profile) Every message I recieved on Easter day was a reminder of some sort of hope and renewal. A corner changed. A pillow flipped over to the cold side. For the first time in my 30 years, I wasn’t entirely sure of it though, and maybe that’s why I was able to embrace it in a sense? When you have nothing to truly look forward to, all the other parts are all the more savory. I tried hard to make it special for the kids, who I later realized would think the holiday was magical no matter what. There was baskets and a bunny hutch solidified with a box that has taken on several lives with a vintage Peter Rabbit blanket. Then there was the bunny pancakes, the egg hunt in the yard, the sunny walk around our neighborhood, the music spinning inside and the sounds of kids laughing outside. There was a movie and dinner and a million times I cleaned. The eggs we finally cracked and embraced as edible parts of the holiday, too. Finally, the sparkling cider and wine we toasted in celebration of it all. In many ways, my precaution in letting Easter define something for me this year, allowed it to *define something for me.

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