Easter Envy

It's Easter weekend and Dublin is not feeling well, which he can't communicate, but mama can sense.

He's on the couch a lot.

He's normally running in circles a lot.

He's yelling a lot.

He's normally singing a lot.

He's not the same color.

He also has never really "gotten" Easter. Lily is not a believer anymore so.... I figure, "low-key, baskets only, no hunt, no coloring eggs. Dublin doesn't really understand the hunt, the bunny, or the eggs anyway.

No Easter clothes.

Let's stay in pajamas. 

It's fine.

Right?!

He doesn't seem well.

He's not even interested in the basket.

Or the items in the basket.

See?!

Not even the cars?!

He usually loves cars?

I need to go to the car. 

I left my purse in the car."

I go to the car.

Across the street, mom, dad, boys and girls are "dressed their best."

Boys' shirts are tucked in and their hair is tidied.

Girls' are twirling around in puffy pastels and their braids are hinted with flowers.

Their little hands carrying big baskets to fill with the magic of Easter.

They excite about the hunt of each egg.

One boy yells to me "look what I found!!"

The only thing missing from this image of this very kind family was a white picket fence.

Admittedly and embarrassingly, I panicked.

My heal stopped my toe from moving forward for a split second to watch.

I stood slightly leaned forward, ready to run backward.

'Cause while I've never been one for white picket fences,

(I actually personally ripped mine out with a chrowbar last year!)

it struck my lungs that my family may never be in that Norman Rockwell portrait.