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Hope and floats

I think what is underneath the flowering head is just as beautiful as the sunny side.


The supporting stem, the outstretched scaffolding of green fuzz make it possible for eyes to be caught at the grocery store. A bouquet for a few dollars, an obtainable luxury, all mine on a whim.

The grocery cart is a parade float as it glides down aisle eight.


I didn’t wave or toss candy. I tossed store brand crunch berries into the cart. It made Joel happy.


He wore 3D glasses he got at the movie How to Train Your Dragon. My mom, who is visiting for Easter, took the kids to see it yesterday. Maybe he thought the cereal would leap out of the bowl in a spectacular shower of corn-based bursts of color and light.

Or, he just thought he looked cool.

We colored eggs.




They were dunked and dunked again, stirred with spoons in the ceramic cups we only seem to get out for Easter egg dye day. The rest of the year, the cups are stowed in the little cupboard above the refrigerator. You know the cupboard. It’s where things go to wait.

Easter marks another year of the grand wait.

I hope I am not a cupboard-dweller.

I hope I am a parade float, gliding and tossing good things to outstretched hands.

I hope I see the world in all it’s textures, popping with life around me.

I hope I appreciate the underneath, the humble foundation.

I hope.

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