She doesn't leave the kitchen, except for when Easter dinner is ready and we all gather to pray and eat. All day she tends to the lamb, the salads, and prepares a rum cake for after the meal.
The kids run around outside in pale yellows and pinks, fighting over chocolate in plastic eggs. By dinnertime, they are tired and sweaty. My aunt wiped at the corners of their mouths and straightens the boys in their hair and the laces on their shoes.
I wonder if she wears the pearls in respect for the holiday or in remembrance of the cream eggs she used to gather years ago.