I have just returned from visiting my family in Utah. It always amazes me how my family lives a very simple life. My husband playfully calls them porch monkeys because every chance they get, they go and sit outside on the porch.
Despite the simple lives they live they also have a rich life of family traditions. Every Easter, the italian tradition is to make a layered omelet made of spaghetti, sausage, pepperoni, two types of cheese and ham. It takes almost two hours to cook: cooking one half first and then flipping it over to cook the other side. We also bake a beautiful braided bread that is frosted and it is baked only on Good Friday. Good friday is the day that Jesus dies on the cross and it is said that if the bread is baked any other day, it will not raise. I have never tried it on any other day out of fear that the tradition must be right.
We have many other traditions on the the other holidays as well. My children have been shown the same traditions that I grew up on and one day they too will be teaching their children.
This year, my grandmother is 92 years old going on 93 in may. As I hugged her, I could not help to wonder if this would be the last Easter that I would be spending with her. She has played a very critical part of passing on tradition. I fought back tears as I took a long look at her memorizing every wrinkle on her very tired worn body. As I write this the tears are rolling down my cheeks. I love her so much and I am so thankful for the traditions that have been given to me. I will remember her each time and I am so honored to have spent Easter with her.