dulcetly...notes on a bookish life

  Today, on what would have been my mother's 78th birthday, I found myself thinking of Easter. Obviously, it's still a little ways off, one of those years I would have been thrilled, as a kid, to have it so close to my birthday at the end of the month and not hers at the beginning. The latter usually meant a celebration at my aunt's usual Easter dinner with cake. This was an event I missed in later years, first just because it didn't work out schedule-wise (and typically I already had another springtime visit planned or they would come in for my birthday.) Later, because of a ridiculous social rift in that side of the family that got even more ridiculous following the death of both my mom and my aunt in the same year. Also, admittedly the subsequent Trumpification of much of that side among the older ones that we watched in horror from afar that did not make me especially want to hang out with them anyway. Including an older cousin, not always the brightest, who spent t...