Cotton Comes Back

Easter had always been a big deal in my house, so it was the holiday that made me miss my parents the most.

- Robin Hill

Ever since she was a little girl, my mother loved Easter. Springtime, the pretty pastels, lilies filling the church when we attended the Easter Sunday service together—she looked forward to it all year. I teased her that she always seemed to be dressed for it, year-round, with her collection of “bunny rabbit” sweaters and “bunny rabbit” shirts. It seemed only right that when I was ready for a pet, my parents brought home a fluffy white rabbit named Cotton, an Easter bunny come to life.

My first Easter without Mom, I sat listening to the pastor at my hometown church. It had been a year since Mom passed away unexpectedly, and I was still reeling from the loss. It had happened just two weeks before Easter. While the pastor talked about the promise of everlasting life, I soothed myself with memories of happy Easters past.

Mom always baked batches of her famous Easter egg cookies—frosted sugar cookies that were as delicious as they were beautiful. Cotton hopped around, presiding over the festivities. I was a lucky girl.