Tree Sap, a Golden Egg, and a Newspaper
Some memories “stick” like no other…
The moment I received the green light, I was running. Many considered the task at hand only to be a fun activity; however, I was far more competitive than that. Everything in my life was a race. I liked to win.
I was huffing and puffing, with adrenaline pumping through my veins. I reached and grabbed as many of the ovular-shaped containers as I could. Each of them gave a dull chime when shaken.
Although I wanted to fill my basket with as many sweets as possible, I couldn’t resist the more significant challenge presented: to find the golden egg. There were probably hundreds of pastel-colored plastic eggs scattered across the field, but only one that was tinted gold. I had to find it. I saw no other option.
As I ran, I kept my eyes peeled. I was trying to determine if my prize's location would be easy — if a quick scan of my surroundings would suffice. Or perhaps it would be far more difficult. I was nervous, unsure of exactly how I’d land myself with the object I so desperately wanted.
I could have easily passed it, but there it was. The dark branches of a large pine tree were obstructing my shining prize. Could it be? Did I dare believe my eyes? There, high up in the tree, was my heart’s greatest desire. I could’ve burst with excitement right then and there. I was about to be a winner.
It was uncomfortable to climb that tree. I was poked by those darn spindly fibers from every direction while my hands and hair grew sticky with tree sap. But it didn’t matter. I was beaming with pride. I knew that I was indeed better than all of the other kids out there because I had found the golden egg.
When had I retrieved the egg, I marched right up to the adults to show off the trophy of my hunt. I couldn’t wait. Immediately, a lady I didn’t know congratulated me and whisked me away to take a photo with a man in an Easter bunny costume. They said that I would appear in the neighborhood announcements for that week. Then I was given a chocolate bunny.
You must be thinking the same thing my 8-year-old self was thinking: that’s it?
Really, that was it. I’m not kidding.
I worked so hard to appear in an e-mail that nobody reads.
And I’m pretty sure I had seen that chocolate bunny selling for only a couple of bucks at the local grocery store.
I will forever remember the disappointment of that day. Fifteen years later, I still think I was cheated.
Hmph.
