While reflecting upon Easter and planning for the traditions that have become associated with the holiday’s promise of new beginnings, it occurred to me that sometimes folks get stuck in their pursuit of a colorful life – possibly inside a Styrofoam egg carton.
The dyeing of eggs is a custom that can be traced back to the Middle Ages. Colors used, methods, and styles of decoration vary to reflect ideals important to specific cultures. However, the symbolism of the egg representing new life remains constant. For hundreds of years those symbols have been carefully prepared and offered as gifts signifying wishes for new life and fresh starts. I don’t know about you, but I’ll take all the rejuvenation I can get. I’m trying to coexist with teenagers. Need I say more? You know where to send the eggs.
Since I’ve been working on my rather fluid insides – preparing for the necessary hard boil that will hopefully sustain me through some trials and tribulations – I decided my outer shell is quite ready to sport a bright, new paint job. I’m thinking something sophisticated with strategically-placed jewels to draw the eyes away from imperfections. Optical illusion is the name of the outer-shell game, is it not?
As is my life, boiling water was readied only for me to discover that I wouldn’t be enjoying the innards-hardening hot bath because I was glued to the carton. At some point in transit I cracked and oozed. Since the fissure was located just below the cup line of my cozy left-bottom-corner compartment – hidden to onlookers – my intact traveling companions were unaware of my unfortunate circumstances and left me all alone.
I carefully considered eggstrication options which presented quite the dilemma: Pull too hard . . . my shell would break up, and I’d be quite the Humpty-Dumpty mess. If I did nothing, I’d surely rot; the smell would be most unpleasant.
Cemented in the realization that there would be no removing me from the carton, I thought maybe I could remove the carton from me. Piece by tiny piece I picked away until . . . Free at last! I didn’t look or feel so bad save for the tiny flecks of pastel-green lumpiness that were the Styrofoam sutures still holding me together. Those would have to stay lest I wanted to perish.
Although the journey took a little longer than anticipated, I reached hard-boiled status and got a fresh, new outer look to boot. Notice I skipped the glitzy gems and went with colors and materials that complement green foam. (I’m spinning so you can get a good look.) Not eggsactly the level of refinement and high fashion I had envisioned, but I need those pieces of the carton that stuck with me during difficult times and my subsequent dive into hot water – good reminders of where I came from.
Remember the words of Bernard Meltzer, “A true friend is someone who thinks you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked”. Happy Easter, friends!
© 2010 Natalie Whatley