Elizabeth Renaud

Easter Eggs

When Sharon came into our lives, we were living in the modern colonial house with the huge front lawn, about a half a soccer field big. In that expanse of lawn, I saw Sharon for the first time. She was small, five years old, and I couldn’t miss her sitting on the lawn watching. Her big, round, brown eyes missed nothing. Watching me walk towards her, she gave no reaction, just those brown eyes taking everything in. Smiling, I greeted her, and asked if she wanted to come inside. Just watching. A few more feeble attempts on my part to get a conversation going, I left her on the lawn - watching.

My parents had adopted Sharon. They wanted to give a home and loving family to a “hard-to-adopt” child. Sharon had been in eight foster homes from the time she was born. Five- year olds shouldn’t have trust issues. Our family had sort of become two families. My brother and I were 15 and 17 respectively. My younger sisters were Lynn at nine and Jennifer at eight, with Sharon rounding us all out at five. I know the adjustment period was challenging and long. Sharon had built a wall better than any mason could, and it seemed as though she would never trust us.

Easter was a big deal in our house. The yearly spring shopping spree was mandatory, especially for the little ones. My mother loved frilly spring dresses, Mary Jane shoes with ruffle ankle socks, a spring coat (which may or may not get worn; it was Buffalo, NY after all), and an Easter bonnet. There were Easter baskets hid around the house for each of the kids on Sunday morning, and egg dying on Saturday afternoon. This particular year was no different, although being older, I did not have to go shopping, but my mother expected me to help the younger ones with the egg dyeing.

I admit, I was not very generous, I think my mother even used all three of my names to impress upon me egg dying would be my responsibility with my younger sisters. Seeing Lynn and Jennifer excited about dyeing eggs helped dispel my grumpy mood. They dropped each of the dye pellets in separate cups, I poured in the boiling water and vinegar and we were ready to dye. Sharon was quietly watching, watching all the preparations with a bit of a detached interest. She didn’t seem as though she really wanted to dye eggs, but she wasn’t leaving the table.

Then it happened. A little bit of that wall began to crack. As Lynn and Jennifer pulled their first eggs out of the dye, Sharon was shot through with excitement, disbelieve, and wonder. Her body, literally, shook with excitement. She couldn’t control herself. Her hands were shaking, and she began to laugh. I was stunned. For a moment I didn’t realize what was happening in front of me. “Have you ever dyed Easter eggs before?” I asked incredulous. Sharon, still not able to speak, shook her head no. My heart melted. I couldn’t even imagine a childhood that did not include such delights as dyeing Easter eggs. At first, Sharon was content to just watch Lynn and Jennifer, but I made sure that didn’t last long. “It’s okay, you can do one yourself.” I put an egg in her hand, and when she had pointed to the color she wanted, I guided her hand and she gently dropped the egg in. She couldn’t take her eyes off that egg. Her whole face lit up when her first egg emerged from the dye. Now the floodgates were open. Giggling like a five year old should, she picked up another egg, and there was no stopping her.

Sharon Renaud 1964-1988

I had thought I wanted to be a teacher, but that Saturday, showed me the power and magic of helping someone else learn something new; the gratifying experience of having the privilege to open up the world to someone else. That day opened the door to a fleeting possibility I could actually have that kind of effect on children. I experienced the pure joy of education and learning.

It would be many years before I stepped into my first classroom. Teaching is fraught with far too many failures and disappointments, yet littered throughout are those magical moments I experienced with Sharon. Every school year is quietly dedicated to Sharon, and I am forever in her debt. (I love you baby girl).