Bad Bunny = No Easter Eggs for You

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I remember when I used to love Easter because it meant I got a new Laura Ingalls/Gone with the Wind inspired mom-made dress and sometimes, even a hat. I have a picture of me from when I was 13 and I'm wearing a peach sailor outfit and a wide-brimmed straw hat with fake flowers on it. I am sure I thought that Kimble Frazier would see me and fall instantly in love because of how romantic I looked (I believe I even pressured my mom into making me a white eyelet petticoat to wear underneath. I remember being disappointed because it didn't puff the skirt out as much as I thought it would. I had pictured a hoop skirt type effect). Now, I barely noticed that it was Easter this weekend. On my way in to work on Friday, I was wondering why no one was on the train until I realized that everyone was home celebrating the crucifixon. We saw several little girls in frilly dresses and patent leather shoes on South Street on Sunday and I tried not to be envious of their outfits. I remember a time when I would have killed for white patent leather shoes especially if they had been tap shoes.

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