I wanted to make this Easter feel at least a little normal in the middle of this abnormal era.
We managed a pared down egg hunt in the backyard and worshipped as a family with our church’s livestream. I even put on a dress (although, as comfy as it was, I don’t know that it counts).
And I planned a mini-feast for our celebration. I felt VERY fortunate to have found a whole chicken in our freezer. Thanks for the BOGO deal a few months ago, local grocery store!
I held back my gag reflex to retrieve the innards from within the bird. I tried not to think too much about it when I rubbed the outtards with butter and sprinkled on the seasonings.
I put the hen in the pan and threw her in the oven.
When she reached temperature, I even had the patience to let her rest for 30 minutes before carving her. (When Martha Stewart gives an order, follow it. You don’t want to make that woman vexed.)
We set the table, put the veggies and potatoes, etc into nice serving dishes, and even remembered the napkins.
Then I sunk the knife into the chicken.
But there was no meat in the breast. None. It was just skin and weird looking fatty stuff. I tried on the other side, hoping that maybe it was just an asymmetrical critter.
“What is wrong with this chicken?” I said, clenching my jaw.
I wondered if it was possible for a chicken to be flat chested.
I did my best to pick off as much meat as possible, glad that both wings were in tact, even if the drumsticks fell apart.
Then I flipped over the bird, hoping for something. Anything.
That was when I realized that I’d cooked the chicken breast side down. I. Felt. Stupid. But at least there was plenty of meat!
The feast was delicious (even the upside-down chicken). The kids ate like beasts (because they’re all growing like monsters). Jeff said everything was great (because he’s kind).
This morning, when I finally let myself laugh about the boob-side-down bird, I thought about how this is a story I don’t want to forget. One that I’ll want to tell about the Easter we spent in distance because of Covid-19.
These stories we’re living at this time have the power to draw us near to the people we love. They’ll work to form new bonds to the friends and family we haven’t even met yet. And they’ll be great to help us process this time.
These are the stories that bind us.
So, I’d love to hear from you. What made yesterday especially memorable for you? What made the day special? What stories did you create yesterday?