Today is Easter and Don and I are in Mexico. I didn't pack an Easter hat with ribbons, or a pastel dress.
I had no white gloves. Those are the things I most likely wore when we went to mass in Staten Island, when I was 6. But, I put on a dress and a straw hat and we headed to Iglesia San Miguel at 8:45.
Where is Everyone?
The doors were open, but no bells were ringing. There were white flowers and music, but only one lone worshiper in a pew. Don removed his hat and I kept mine on, with a smile. A smile, recalling how as a child, I often forgot my hat or scarf as we raced off to mass. I would end up with my dad's handkerchief on my head. (I never understood that head-covering rule as a kid!!)
It turns out we had arrived an hour early. We didn't stay for mass, but I did the things I remembered proudly doing as a 6-year-old... dipping 2 fingers in holy water and crossing myself... genuflecting... sinking my knees into the cushioned kneeler to say a prayer. Then I studied the windows and ceilings, which is what I did, back when mass was in Latin. And I think my stomach growled the same way it used to, when the family waited until after mass for breakfast!
Who says you have to have eggs and bunnies to celebrate Easter like a 6-year-old?