The Easter Bunny Cometh

I'm not a believer.

Or wasn't.

And now here a-hoppin' comes the Easter Bunny, intent on making me take another look at my system of non-belief.

Yesterday morning, Easter Sunday, I scuffed down the stairs in my curlers and fuzzy slippers to retrieve the newspaper from the porch. Oh, the paper was there to be sure. But it was plopped in its blue plastic sheath right next to this little crackle-nosed guy, who was waiting in his adorableness with his offering of chocolate carrots.

Dare I admit that squeals ensued?

But wait, there's more!

Chicks and ducklings and jellied robin eggs in the planter box! Wheverer—whomever—did they come from?

Here I was, plodding happily along in my cynicism, only to have a bunny arrive to take a few nibbles from the snarkier edges.

I may not believe in water into wine or stones rolled back to reveal empty tombs, but I was lifted on this Sunday morning. I'll take the everyday mysteries of the human spirit over one day of holiness designated on my desktop calendar.*

* Easter fun fact: Easter falls on the first Sunday after the first full moon in Spring. Well, kinda sorta.