A Grandpaw and a Gun

    

    I don't know if this picture matches the Easter we spent with my grandparents, the memory seems to match the age. 

My Grandmaw Irene, Grandpaw Lloyd, Kim, Karen and me. 

   My cousin, Kim, no doubt my first best friend. No matter when we had the chance to see each other, from my earliest memory of her, it was always a happy time. I was always excited. 

   This Easter, I remember her and I sleeping on a fold-out sofa bed. When we woke up in the morning, the Easter baskets were no where to be found. I I can still see so clearly, Kim and I sitting on the bed and looking at my Grandpaw at the door. His story: he shot the Easter Bunny when he was jumping out of the window, and that was why we didn't have any Easter baskets! The thought that the bunny was dead was just horrible, my little child mind couldn't grasp that idea. Thinking about it now ,

I'm not surprised by his story, it was his niche-storytelling. 

   And the final memory, walking in the front room, my grandparent's room, and finding our baskets sitting there. I still have the basket. 💛💚💜