The Easter Bunny

Since the middle of January, I've been writing once a week about relatives I have lost over the years. I'm not sure that you saw this coming, but all of that was in prelude to the family member I lost most recently and that I will never get over. But you know that since I find the greatest solace in writing, I would eventually subject you to a memoir of my daughter's life.

          I plan to start sharing Val's life on Wednesday; however, yesterday I was reminded of a story I had completely forgotten about. And since yesterday was Easter, I had to share this one now.

          Val held many jobs over the years. Some of them she quit for something more to her liking, but she was also fired from several. But whatever the case, she would dig in her heels and search for employment wherever she could.  

          She lost a job early one spring, and when no one was hiring, she took a part-time, seasonal gig at the mall, doing the last thing I would have envisioned. She was the Easter Bunny's assistant.

          She hated it! I can't remember what her costume was – it had to be better than a giant rabbit – but she still hated what she had to wear. The kiddos who she hoisted onto the bunny's lap were generally spoiled and obnoxious. She hated their behavior. The pay wasn’t like a dangling carrot, but it was enough to mess with her unemployment. 

          I can't remember where she worked next, but it wasn't long after that that she hopped on a respectable job again.

          But that was our Val. There was always something that sprang up in her life that was out of the ordinary. Oh, if only she were still here to tell those stories.

Nick and Val, Easter 1995 (the only Easter picture I have of them)