The boys are growing up. We have a tradition of hiding eggs on Easter Morning for the boys to find scattered about the yard, in bushes, trees, on cars....you name it. This year my oldest only participated
because I pretty much made him. It's become more for me then it is for them. It's hard to let go and see them grow up. I'm remembering holding him as a baby and wiping away the tears as a child. Now, the boys are practically looking after me and ensuring I'm okay in the world. Funny how things turn around in the blink of an eye.
If this is the last year we hide eggs, it was a perfect one to remember as a last. The weather was perfect, the food was delicious, the pictures I took will serve as a mile marker reminding me of all the steps along the way we've taken to get where we are today. The traditions are what carry us from one season to the next, holding on to what is dear and remembering with loving thoughts all that has passed before us.
Before I know it, it will be my children carrying on the memories for their families in similar ways. I'll be watching with pride, what wonderful people my sons have become.
It may be the end of one tradition, but it surely will be the beginning of many more to come.