CoronaEaster

I don’t usually associate sports with Easter, although the void left by their absence over the past several weeks has been impossible to ignore. Sunday, ESPN aired a HORSE tournament where NBA players, each in his own city, played HORSE on his own court. This was only slightly less embarrassing than the streaming video game tournaments ESPN has been airing, in which professional athletes play video games against one another. ESPN, along with other channels, have resorted to showing games from the past. Over the weekend I saw game seven from the 2016 NBA finals, followed by football bowl game from ten years ago. Typically this time of year I would be gearing up for the NBA finals to begin. Instead, we watched a rerun of the 2008 National Spelling Bee.

Every year on Easter, both of our families come over for Easter lunch. After lunch, the big kids hide Easter eggs for the little kids to find.

This year, we were afraid. We were afraid someone might get us sick. We were afraid we might get one of our parents sick. We were afraid to celebrate Easter the same way we’ve celebrated it for the past twenty-five years, since we got married.

Instead, Susan baked an entire meal (ham, potato salad, deviled eggs, beans, rolls, carrots, cupcakes, and that weird, fluffy stuff she calls salad that’s made out of Cool Whip), made plates, and delivered them around town. We sent two meals-worth to my dad, two plates to Susan’s mom’s house, and some cupcakes over to to my mom’s. While at my mom’s, we sat six-feet-apart outside and talked while Mason and Morgan played basketball in the driveway.

These are not the sports I wanted. This is not the Easter Susan wanted. We’re doing the best we can with the information we have.

The ham was delicious, and so was that weird Cool Whip salad stuff.