I remember this day so vividly, that when I think of my childhood, I think of this picture.
Every Easter, there was a big Aro family gathering out at Grandma and Grandpa’s farm. I remember cousins, cousins, cousins, and a giant Easter egg hunt. Though the Easter egg hunt may have been done at Timber Linn Park.
Dad was frustrated with me because I kept dilly-dallying, and not doing the dishes. Finally, in exasperation, he said something like, “We’re not going to go to the Easter party now!”
I bawled like my heart was on fire. All through washing the dishes, I cried. Hard. Tears dripping off the end of my chin.
My sorrow was vast and overwhelming. A powerful thing that took my whole body, crashing end over end like a retreating wave. I cried even after Dad conceded that we’d go. I cried while we got our Easter dresses on. I was still sniffling when we went out to the chicken house.
Were we feeding the chickens before we left? Stopping by for an Easter Chicken photo? I don’t know.
This picture reminds me that sometimes emotions are fierce and powerful. Relentless as gravity. Sometimes you can’t fight them. They come, they loom like mountains, and you just have to wait until they go.
When one of my kids is having a meltdown, I often think back to this little girl wearing her favorite denim jacket, her face puffy from fighting giants. It helps me to remember that sometimes, feelings are just too big for little people to wrestle.