Surprise!

 I surprised myself with tickets to New York. You're probably wondering, how does one surprise herself? Ask my mother, she used to do it all the time. 

There was the six months spent looking for my Easter candy. 15 years old, I  no longer expected a basket or bags of mini Reese's eggs. We had done the required egg hunt the day before, though this year I was more worker bee than hunter/gatherer. I felt that the Easter traditions had been fulfilled, time to get in the car and drive two and a half hours for lunch and then exhaustedly drive two and a half hours back. As I walked down stairs to search for the keys so we could be on time for once, I heard my mother call out, "see if you can find your candy!"

My candy! So there was a little excitement left in my childhood, thank goodness! I searched everywhere. Above the computer, between books, within shoes, daring to go beyond my mom's pile of dirty clothes guarding the closet. Nothing.

"I don't think it's in a basket, there's just a few chocolate bars." 

Oh great, now not only did I have to search the three floors of our house, but I wasn't even looking for a big item. If I was my mother, where would I put it....

Okay, we have a very explorative, always hungry, doesn't understand no dog; search high. I'm 5'5", my mom is 5'7", don't search that high. Gone was my productive 'find the keys mindset,' I had a mission and I had chosen to accept it. 

Forty-five minutes later feeling hopeless, hungry, and extremely late, we gave up. "Let's buy candy at the gas station, and get our butts on the road!"

I was shocked when I found a package of Reese's cups and a Hershey's bar nestled in the mixing bowl of my mom's Hamilton beach mixer. "It's July. Why is there candy in the mixing bowl? Can I still eat this?"

My Easter candy, much like Jesus, had miraculously risen from the depths. No one was more surprised than the hider herself. "I could hide my own birthday presents," she would say.

"You hid your own candy," I would retort.

I surprised myself with tickets to New York. I didn't buy the tickets, lose them, find them and realize, "Oh shit! I go to New York on Friday!" 

My friends and family won't someday look back at this trip and think, "What a hilarious story that is also an obvious sign of early onset dementia."

I bought tickets out of the blue, no warning for myself, my friends, or my savings account. I heard my mom's voice, rising from the dead (see Jesus), telling me to go. Go and find what has been hidden for the last six months. Go and find your resurrection. Go and find life's sweetness, dolce vita. Go and find what I have hidden for you. 

My mom surprised me with tickets to New York.