When asked to come to her Easter celebration party, I said no, because I had too much work left for the newspaper to do. When I next saw Valery Lyman, I had a change of heart and asked if the invite were still open.
“Oh, I’m so glad you changed your mind,” she said as I accepted.
Having been in a depressive mood for seven months, I told myself I would not stay long, making a polite appearance before leaving as early as possible. I ended up staying until nine in the evening.
The change started the moment I shadowed her door frame. Her first words caught me off guard and caused laughter.
“Happy Christmas!” Valery fairly shouted, despite it being Easter.
When someone pointed out what she had said, Valery blushed, “I said that?”
More laughter. And honestly, since I had not laughed like that in months, it felt good.
After noshing some cheese, bread, and olives, Valery informed her guests, Tom Gray, Alexia Sober, Rudi Stueger, Bill Finley, her boyfriend Tony, and myself, that we were embarking on an Easter egg hunt. At first, I hesitated, thinking I should have left earlier, but I soon discovered I would have missed out on a fun moment of life had I bailed.
For twenty minutes, we adults, behaving like young kids, searched high and low, every nook and cranny of our surroundings from under low-laying stones, under propane tanks, in cable television wires, and even along the walls of the Storey County Courthouse. I had not been on an Easter egg hunt since nine-years-old, since I had to help my sisters find eggs at the annual hunt held at Margaret Keating School in Klamath.
I found the second top-winning egg, a free-range one dipped in several layers of silver paint that won me some truffle oil and two packets of flower seed, while Tony located the Gold, the big prize, for what prize as Valery’s boyfriend I can only imagine he won.
After we finished, we returned for a portrait sitting conducted by Valery, using her Kodak Brownie, shooting 620 black and white. She blessed me by trusting me to take the final frame of the roll so she could be in a photograph too.
Unfortunately, Alexia, Tom, and Bill left a short time after.
It was approaching sunset, the bright orb of the day starting to touch the upper edge of Mt. Davidson, when Valery invited me to stay for dinner. She served duck, potatoes, and artichoke, for which I was allowed to offer the meal prayer.
After dinner, Eric, myself, Tony, and Valery sat and chatted. Upon the first yawn that escaped Valery, I excused myself from the dinner table, thanked my hostess for a grand day, and left for home.
Shaking hands with Tony and Rudi, I half-whispered, “Happy Christmas,” in Valery’s ear as I hugged her goodnight. She smiled a sleepy smile.
A warm feeling lingered within me all the way home with me, and when I remember back on the celebration, the same comes upon me again.
The Old Blog in the Desert 