I Felt So Sorry For Lost Easter Eggs

Every Easter I cried at least once when I was a little girl.

I couldn't seem to shake the sadness I felt for the easter eggs that were hidden, but were never found. I imagined them all dressed in such beautiful colored patterns feeling so pretty and just giddy with excitement of being sought after. I imagined them feeling so very special. But when they were hidden too well, and night fell and the coldness crept in, I would cry over those eggs lost forever.

I used to put all my stuffed animals and dolls in bed with me and line them all up and down my body so they could all be touching me, so none of them would feel less important.

I felt sorry for the rocks I skipped into the lake that could never feel the warmth of the sun again.

Even now, on an autumn day, I can look at a tree and see one single orange leaf left hanging on for dear life and then... in one small gust of wind, it loses its grip and falls to the ground. And, It tears my heart out everytime.


Why do I feel more sad when I see a red helium balloon get loose from a 4-year old's grip ... and I watch it float up into the air until I can no longer see it, than, when I see a homeless man on a street corner with a sign written "THANK YOU AND GOD BLESS".

I don't know.

Is it because I feel the man has some sort of choice and the balloon and the easter egg and the dolls don't?

Maybe that's it.

But, maybe it's because I saw *me* in that easter egg and in the dolls and the little leaf hanging on for dear life.

Maybe it was easier for me to focus and care for those objects instead of my own feelings.

Yesterday, I saw a woman driving with her long dress hanging out from her closed door. It was bright and just flapping wildly in the wind. I smiled. I didn't feel embarrassed for the woman. I felt sorry for the dress.

I guess there will always be some things I never outgrow.