Plenty of Eggs in the Grass

Just imagine for a moment that you are a little girl who has been invited to an Easter Egg hunt at the neighbor's house. Your anticipation of the upcoming hunt is making you giddy because, even though you've never been to an event like this before, you've heard lots of amazingly incredible stories about how fantastical they can be. Your vivid imagination has taken the stories as they were told to you over and over and over again, and turned them into a fictional wonderland where truth and reality are banished and fantasy rules.

Just imagine for a moment that you are a little girl who is now at the neighbor's house and the Easter Egg hunt is about to begin. Every other little girl there is squeaky clean, dressed in their Sunday best, wearing their Mary Janes, and carrying a pretty basket, but no one had told you that sandals and pedal pushers were unacceptable attire for the hunt. Hey! You're eleven! You should know better!  And, where's your basket? What do you mean no one told you to bring a basket? Where do you expect to put the magical egg without a pretty basket? 

Just imagine for a moment that you are an old lady reminiscing about a little girl who many years ago went to an Easter Egg hunt with hopes of finding a hidden treasure that had magical powers. Realizing she looked different than all the other well-dressed, pretty little girls who were being doted on by their attentive mothers, she moved to the outer edges of the lawn and waited alone for the hunt to begin. Then, while all of the other girls giggled and joked and danced and pranced around the yard, she crawled over every square foot of grass...searching, searching, searching. Then a gleeful scream was heard from afar and the hunt was over, but only for the moment. There are plenty of eggs in the grass and they can also hold the power, and so the search must continue until that one magical egg is found.

Just imagine for a moment that you are an old lady with young women trailing behind you on the treadmill of life--sisters, nieces, daughters, granddaughters--and you know something they don't know. In fact, you know a lot they don't know. That's what living sixty plus years on this planet will allow you. You know stuff. But they know stuff, too, and they don't want to hear your stuff because it's old stuff from an old lady who likes to ramble on and on and on about her stuff.

Here's something you might not know: An egg is just an egg. It can be hard boiled, over easy, scrambled, poached, deviled, or decorated real nice on the outside, but no matter how you prefer your eggs, they are still only eggs. You don't have to wear your Sunday best when selecting your egg, it's okay to come as you are, nor do you have to crawl on the ground to find your eggs. They are everywhere; they are not magical; and, if you don't remember one single thing I have written in this post, please remember this: THEY DO NOT HOLD THE POWER.