As a child with Jewish roots
we didn’t celebrate Easter
and Dad worked retail Sundays
to sell chocolate eggs
to excited children
hidden in garden corners
beside decorated frilly empty baskets
laden with lingering dreams,
but now that dad is gone,
I miss memorable Passover Seders
with hidden matzo and eggs soaked in salt water.
I crave tradition more than this morning’s sun.
So, today on my childhood holiday,
I created a new tradition
an egg dinner
once a year, in father’s honor.
And all of his family who perished in
that unexplainable Holocaust.
About the Writer
Diana Raab, MFA, PhD, is a memoirist, poet, blogger, and award-winning author of nine books and 1000 articles/poems. She blogs for Psychology Today, and Thrive Global. Her latest book: Writing for Bliss: A Seven-Step Program for Telling Your Story and Transforming Your Life. She frequently speaks on writing for transformation. Visit: dianaraab.com.