a fake artist's rendering of my mind's eye

Just the other night, I was heading into the bathroom when the Luksic Hall RA--ahem, I'm sorry CA, kindly informed me that we would be having a Luksic Easter egg hunt. It reminded me of a story from long, long ago...

I'm not one for memory, so please bear with me through the following historical account. Whatever details could not be recollected completely have been fabricated so not to ruin the flow of the story in general. As a whole, the story is totally factual, no matter how heart-wrenching.

It was a fine spring morning, the air was nice and the grass was green. My church was having an Easter egg hunt, the most Christian thing to do for the holiday, right? I, being part of the church's school, was all geared up for the hunt. 

I was armed to the teeth with good shoes, clean clothes, an empty Easter basket to hold all of my winnings, and the excitement for the hunt couldn't be contained. Little Pete was on his way to victory. I wasn't much for the rinky dink toys-- a superball here and there, a plastic whistle, stickers, etc. As far as candy went, I was more of a chocolate boy (obviously), and jelly beans had very little room in my collection. Thus, radar was set out with chocolate candies on the brain.

When the time came mom packed me into the car, with little hesitation, of course. It wasn't a long drive to the church. Back in the day, traffic used to be light enough that the trip would be two minutes; lately it's been up to ten minutes at some times, but that's a different story altogether... back to the hunt.

The kids were set aside. As I remember it wasn't much of a real Easter egg hunt; the field was big and barren, flat as the flattest terrain, and the ground wasn't very big, but to a kids eyes, like mine, it was HUGE. Kids were off to the side and some were with their parents. I stuck with mom in the crowd and waited for the events to get started so I could grab up some candy. Never front-row people, the Phillips' were in the second or third row from the front.

Rules were explained and boundaries were set. Then the hunt began.

Kids scattered about while parents cheered them on. "Go to the left!" "Over by the tree!" "Hurry!" The fun was hardly contained, except for me. As the children who belonged to the parents in front of me were dispatched and cheatingly directed about the field in a junior-survival of the fittest competition, I was stuck looking at their asses. They wouldn't move out of the way so I could get to the field. I could see the action past them, between their hips, but it was so far out of reach that it may as well be across the country. 

I was so close, yet so far-- a cliché, true, but also reality. 

Kids ran and eggs were found. I tried to push through to see what was left, but there was no use. The parents wouldn't move! My mom called and begged them to move but it was still worthless. I had undoubtedly found myself behind a couple of asses... literally and metaphorically. 

The entire experience was too fast to remember completely. My panic, mixed with my mother's frustration, and the glaring disregard for youth by the adults put a damper on that year's Easter. I don't remember much from my youth, but this is one clear story that stands out. 

Afterwards, my mom complained about some people just being jerks on the drive home. It wasn't fun watching the other kids roll through their booty of eggs and candy, but I was a kid--I'd live. And that I did. In the face of that adversity, I made myself stronger. 

Still, I hadn't participated in Easter egg hunts since; partly because I'm not one for running around, and partly because "I grew out of it." Will I partake in Luksic's hunt? We'll see. One thing's for sure though, I still don't like adults who prevent kids from having fun.