Easter Dresses

When I was little I would wistfully walk through store aisles as the Easter dresses arrived. I loved touching them, holding them up to me and swaying in a mirror.

The colors. The flowers. The bows. The fanciness. The endless girly frilliness.

And mom, even though it was probably not in the budget, would let me get a fancy, frilly, pastel, girly dress of my choice.

And I loved them. And the pretty tights that went with them. And the shoes. And, oh my lord, how wonderful it was if my dress came with a hat. Hats are fancy.

For all the tree climbing, ball kicking, and foul language that I partook in, underneath it all, I was a girly girl. And I loved frilly dresses skimming over my scabbed knees.

What always bummed me about my Easter dress was that nobody got to see it. Because growing up there was a greater chance of snow on the ground than sun in the sky on Easter Sunday. The flowers, the frilliness, the fancy, pastel dress would always be covered by a winter coat. The shoes would be replaced with boots.

All that wonderful girliness had to hidden away - and it was alway far too cold for a fancy hat.

But here? Here in the world of southern Ohio? Here Easter appears to involve sunshine.

And green grass, spring flowers, blowing bubbles and frilly Easter dresses, in full, glorious bloom.

Am I jealous? Um. Yep.