Pessimistic Easter
Joelle Esquejo
Note: This does not represent my actual views.
Pastel colours were slathered over everything. Badly drawn pictures of chicks and
bunnies were strung up around the house, painted by the hands of infants and
toddlers. Plastic eggs filled with chocolate and coins were littered around the garden,
some left over from previous years (as young eyes couldn’t locate them) but most
newly placed across the grass. People, both young and old, filled both the garden
and rooms of the house, smiles present on every face as people chatted away.
I hated it.
Why did there have to be such bright, happy colours in every nook and cranny? Why
did parents insist on displaying such unintelligible and illegible drawings on the walls
instead of masterpieces created by the older children and teenagers? Why did all of
the fake, plastic eggs have to be hidden in the most obvious of places? Why did
these people have to come over every single year ?!
That’s not what my little brother thinks, however.
Every year he wakes up in the early hours of daylight, grabbing the decorations and
chucking them all over the walls. Every year he proudly presents the drawings he
created in school to be hung up in frames. Every year he enthusiastically helps plant
prizes in plastic eggs before refusing to watch our parents scatter them in the
garden. Every year he sits by the door, eagerly awaiting our guests to arrive with
sparks of excitement in his eyes.
He makes me feel happy.
So maybe East er isn’t that bad.