I can hear his voice, “Here comes Peter Cotton Tail, hoppin’ down the bunny trail. Hippity Hoppity Easters on it’s way.” I can see him awkwardly skipping around the house with a goofy grin.
It’s Good Friday, the sun is shining, it feels warmer than I anticipated. It’s a day my Dad would have loved.
Growing up, Easter was always special for our family. There were the traditional Italian foods – homemade ravioli, crecia, chocolate torte, rice pie and more. There were Easter baskets and chocolate egg huts. There were corsages for my mom, my sister and I. There were new outfits and of course there was church. Sunday morning, we’d have breakfast from the griddle compliments of my Dad (my Mom got to rest). There was something about Easter Sunday that gave my Dad an extra twinkle in his eye and spring in his step. My Dad never preached about going to church or his faith, but his actions and the way he lived always represented his values, his faith, his belief in God.
So, today, I sit here thinking about my Dad and thankful that he showed me how to live a faithful life, a life full of belief in all things, people, and God.
“Here comes Peter Cotton Tail, hoppin’ down the bunny trail. Hippity Hoppity Easters on it’s way.”