The bird sat on the uppermost branch of the tree.
A tall evergreen, easily three stories high, was its perch.
There it was on the branch that stuck straight up from the top.
The same branch that would hold a star or an angel on a Christmas tree.

How could this bird sit so comfortably there?
I heard the bird before I saw it.
There it sat, perched high above everything, singing.
Here I was, looking up through the sunlight, listening.

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Anyone with more than one child knows that there is an ongoing, friendly dispute.
I’m Mom’s favorite!
Through the years I have heard that numerous times…from some more than others.
I truly think that each child secretly hopes that they alone will hear those words.
Those special words, that set them apart from the rest.

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Easter was always a time when my mother would buy me a new dress.
A Sunday best dress.
Little white Mary Jane shoes with buttons.
Buttons that needed their own special hook in order to fasten them correctly.
New little pocket book that held just a handkerchief.
To finish off the look…a straw hat with a satin ribbon that matched the dress.

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I have worn the same perfume for years.
When I was in college, I had many fragrances I liked to wear.
After I was married, however, I found one fragrance that has been my signature scent.

While in college, I wore a certain perfume that was very unique.
It was not my favorite perfume, but I would receive compliments every time I wore it.
I remember being in a store one day and a woman was on the same aisle with me.
Finally, after seeming to follow me up one aisle and down another, she stopped me.

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I loved my Easter basket when I was young.
It wasn’t the jelly beans or robin’s eggs or even the chocolate bunnies that I enjoyed.
It was my precious egg.

I can see it now in my mind’s eye.
Small, yellow…the size of my hand.
Rough to the touch, with decorations that mimicked a real decorated egg.

But this egg was special.
This one had a window…a small piece of plastic on one end that I could look into.
Inside was a miniature world…a rabbit burrow…with a family of rabbits.

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Traditions.
Sometimes they just happen.
They become more meaningful as years go by.
Sometimes they are truly understood later.

I remember a tradition my mother started when I was a little girl.
It was always a few days before Easter.
My mother would take me with her to the garden shop to buy flowers.

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