Some Words...

When I was a kid Easter was a big deal because it meant two things, one - another day off school since Catholic kids cannot go to school on Good Friday, and two - tons of candy. Those two things were always in a battle with each other for the top spot of 'most important' things. Easter also meant that my mom would drag me shopping for a new dress and Easter bonnet. Oh yes I was quite the sight in my white tights, frilly dress, and perfectly placed bonnet. All the old ladies in church would stop and pinch my cheeks or ask me for a hug. Why is it that when you are a kid you hate hugging old people...they seemed scary or something didn't they? Easter was the one day my mother made me look like a girl. I was much more comfortable in my torn up jeans and sneakers because really, I wanted to be a boy. You see, I discovered at a very young age that boys had it much easier than girls. No dresses, no getting told to 'sit like a proper young lady'...they got to play with trucks, and climb trees, and get dirty...and everyone expected them to do those things. But if you were a girl, dirt was a big NO NO, trucks were for boys and dollies were for girls. I remember once taking my cabbage patch doll and strapping her to the top of my brothers army tank...because it looked cool. My mother about had a heart attack. "Girls do not behave that way," she said. My father wasn't much help either because after my brother was born he wanted a girl more than anything so when I came into to this world I was his real live princess. Let me tell you that being a princess is not all it's cracked up to be. Anyway, on Easter my mom scrubbed my knees, cleaned the dirt from under my fingernails, pulled my hair so tight into braids that my eyes slanted, and dressed me up like a girl so that everyone could see how pretty I was. Actually I think my mom wanted everyone to see how pretty she was and I was just a side ornament..but that's another story. So we'd go to church, my mother would pull my braids to make sure I was paying attention and life was the way it was supposed to be - for one day.

Now I'm one of those 'old people' but not much else has changed. I still prefer my torn up jeans and sneakers to a dress and my mother still calls me to make sure I have a proper outfit for Easter mass. I don't much mind anymore - the scrubbing of my knees, the cleaning my finger nails...and one more thing - I don't want to be a boy anymore. Life is the way it's supposed to be - at least for today.