For reasons no one cares about, I have to be out the door at 5:30 a.m., six days a week, so I actually only get about one good night’s sleep a week – on Saturday.
Except for this past Saturday. When I went to bed, there were three little kids sleeping in our living room. Sometime in the middle of the night, two of them relocated to our bed. I don’t know why they didn’t go to their parents’ room. It was only two flights of stairs, two hallways, and a few rooms away, in the dark, but for some reason when the two little girls woke up in the night, they settled for Grammy right next door.
That would have been fine, except one of them was doing cartwheels or kickboxing or some other strenuous sport in her sleep. I gave up about 3:00 a.m. and went out to sleep on the couch, except that’s where I found the third little kid, breathing loudly right next to it.
I listened for a few seconds, then wandered off looking for another perch. We have one other couch in the house, but it’s made of some smooth leather stuff and is about a foot shorter than I am. Plus, there’s no handy pile of blankets like there is in our main TV watching room. All in all, not the right conditions for a peak sleeping experience, but there wasn’t much else to do at 3:00 in the morning, so I curled up diagonally, wrapped myself in my bathrobe, and pretended I was sleeping.
Around 10:00 a.m. we were in church singing “Up From the Grave He Arose,” and a remarkably blasphemous thought crossed my mind. For the sake of my soul, I didn’t say it out loud.
I like Easter. If you take Christianity seriously, it’s probably your favorite holiday, and even if you don’t, it’s a chance to see people you only see a couple times a year, not to mention that you get to eat too much ham.
If that’s even possible.
Personally, I like Easter because, for one reason, we were accidentally (long story) married on an Easter Sunday.
On the prairies of western Minnesota, Easter can be kind of a dodgy holiday weather-wise. You expect it to be snowing for Christmas and you expect to be drowning in sweat for the 4th of July, but Easter can mean rain, snow, or sunshine, plus wind. This year (2014) it was perfect.
Sunshine, temperatures in the mid-70s, and a gentle breeze. The little girls wore sundresses and played in their bare feet, where a week ago there had been snowdrifts.
After an Easter dinner that required six table leaves and an auxiliary kid/grandparent table, we spent the rest of the afternoon in conversation and relaxation. At one point, I noticed our entire cat menagerie sitting watching the humans, including the frostbitten remnant of the cat I wrote about a few weeks ago. Seeing them, I had a brilliant idea. Since the sitcom “Two and a Half Men” was such a big hit, why not one titled “Six and a Half Cats,” with the kicker being that the “half cat” was really about half a cat. It can’t miss.
The party broke up fairly early, what with some folks having a long drive and others a sleepy 3-year-old.
I scored a ham sandwich and watched a few minutes of TV.
And then I went to bed.
Copyright 2013 Brent Olson