Sophia peered over the edge of the desk. She stood spellbound a full ten minutes watching her sister drawing colorful designs on an uncooked egg. Jacqueline’s room was off limits unless big sister accompanied her, and she knew to touch only with her eyes. Sophia was six. So with her eyes she took in the bright red animals, the yellow bands of wheat, the brilliant white stars, the dark shiny browns and blacks that divided the egg into panels.
“Are you makin’ breakfast?”
“No, Sophie, I’m coloring this egg for Serge.”
“The far ‘n strange student?”
“Foreign exchange student, Silly. Serge is from Ukraine. I read in a book that in his country the girls give colored eggs to the boys they like.”
“You like Serge?” Sophie asked, eyes wide.
“What do you think?”
“Does he like you?”
“He loves me. ”
At that, Sophie covered her mouth with her little hands and tore from the room.
“That secret won’t last long,” Jacqueline thought to herself as she put the finishing touches on her masterpiece.
The next day Mom stood in front of the fridge collecting ingredients. Braided egg bread had become an Easter tradition in the family and this was the day to make it. “Sophia,” she called.
Sophie padded around the corner and into view.
“Tell me about these eggs. ”
“In the crane girls give ’em to boys.” The whole dozen were decorated in color crayon with birds and fish and sunshine and flowers and every pretty thing a little girl of six had ever seen.
“You’ve been talking to your sister, I see. And who are these for, Daddy?”
“Derrick down the street?”
“No,” she giggled. “They’re for Jesus.”
“Easter eggs for Jesus?”
“He loves me,” she explained, turned on her heel, and strode out of the room.
Mom gently closed the lid on the eggs, loaded everything back in the fridge, took down the list from the refrigerator door, and added ‘eggs.’
by James Grasley