This is a repost of an Easter blog from 2013. I have written other Easter blogs, but this one continues to be my favorite because it’s about gratitude. Enjoy!
In elementary school my brother and I walked home to eat lunch. Our mom had our food prepared when we arrived so that we could eat, watch Bozo Circus on TV, then walk back to school.
When she started working, she gave us the choice of taking our lunch to school or coming home. “Who will prepare our lunch if you’re at work?” I questioned. “Mr. Pete will!” she replied with a smile. Mr. Pete was the old man who lived across the street. We opted for him. That way we could still watch Bozo Circus!
Mr. Pete brought his grill to our house and made grilled cheese sandwiches every day! I don’t know if he didn’t know how to prepare anything else, but I knew never to question an adult…that was disrespectful. So even when we couldn’t stand to eat another one, my brother and I cheerfully ate our grilled cheese sandwiches!
To show our appreciation, my mom made us dye boiled eggs and take them to Mr. Pete in a basket at Easter. We did that every year while in elementary school. In junior high, we bought lunch in the cafeteria, so Mr. Pete did not have to grill cheese sandwiches for us again. That didn’t matter. At Easter my mom boiled eggs, my brother and I dyed them, and off we went across the street to deliver them to Mr. Pete.
When we reached high school, we hardly ever saw Mr. Pete anymore. He was alive, but didn’t come out much. We would wave to him when we saw him sitting in his living room window gazing out. He had to be in his 90s by then. Easter rolled around and mom boiled eggs again. My brother and I laughed, “You don’t still expect us to dye eggs for Mr. Pete do you?” After all we were in high school! Egg-dying was for kids! She looked at us sternly and said, “Yes.” We dyed and delivered the eggs to Mr. Pete.
My brother went to college in 1972. I was a high school junior. All I could think about was dating, driving, partying, and planning for college…yes in that order! Easter neared and my mother told me to boil a dozen eggs. Was she kidding? I was 17 years old!! She had to be out of her mind to think that I was still going to dye eggs for Mr. Pete. As things turned out, I was the one out of my mind for thinking that I wasn’t!
Mr. Pete died when I was a senior. I felt a void at Easter. I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed doing something nice for Mr. Pete…even though it had been six years since he had made a grilled cheese sandwich for me!
I was an adult when I had the epiphany that dying eggs for Mr. Pete was my mother’s way of teaching me that you are never too old to show appreciation…no matter how long ago the act of kindness was done for you.