Reflections on the hunt

Some evenings, when I'm at the spa at Millenium Health Club, Rick McMillion will come over and try to pry me for clues as to where I might be hiding the egg that night.

"Where's the egg?" he'll ask.

"It's in the car," I answer, soaking deeper into the warm water under the Spring night sky.

"Where are you hiding it?" he asks again.

"I don't know yet," I say, which is an honest answer.

Most nights we drive around, not sure where we are going until we get there, egg in tow, feeling like middle school kids in the summer on bicycles during years when things were more innocent. If I worry about where to hide the egg, it's mostly because I'm conscious that there's so many places I haven't hidden it yet--so many neighborhoods where eggs have yet to tread. . .

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This morning, I woke up to a text message saying, "Had an early morning dentist appointment with Malcolm. We're heading to the Rose Garden." Followed later by a, "Yay! Found it!" and a lovely photo of young Malcolm with the egg in hand.

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Journalist and poet and lovely person, Elizabeth McMunn-Tetangco, wrote this article on the Great Egg Hunt for our local newspaper's online version: http://www.mercedsunstar.com/2011/05/06/1881652/great-egg-hunt-brings-poetry-to.html

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Thanks for all the interest!