I have always loved the aesthetic of Easter. Girls in pretty dresses and Sunday School shoes. Boys in uncomfortable dress shirts with buttons. Baskets filled with grass and eggs. New blossoms and green grass. As Charlotte gets older, I am always conflicted around holidays about how to meaningfully develop authentic traditions. This year, I had hopes of naturally dyed and carefully etched eggs placed on a basket of wheatgrass that we had planted and watched grow over conversations of spring and new life. Instead, Charlotte got an Easter basket of remnants from my treasure box that I had at school (stickers, pencils, and erasers) and a journal that had been chewed up by one of our dogs. Thankfully, she loved it. I let it go and enjoyed Easter with the family in the woods of Georgia, playing with animals, forcing the cousins to take a group picture, and sledding on the pine straw with feed sacks (good idea, Jimmy). The best traditions might be the ones that go unplanned.