The Egg Hunt

The Egg Hunt

You wanted so badly to do an egg hunt around my small studio apartment on the beach. I thought you were crazy, but you insisted. When we came home from church, your eyes lit up like I had never seen them before. You looked ten years younger in a moment, a lifetime of confinement and pain erased by a sheer joy I had never seen before. I took off my heels and began looking in every narrow corner of my tiny studio. When my arms were full and I thought I had found them all, you told me that it was most important that I find the golden egg because there was something special inside. I finally found it underneath the stove and opened it up to one of my favorite caramel Cadbury eggs. You instantly took a photo of me, looking ten years younger myself, as I held up that egg with pride.

I think about that photo often, and the golden egg that has found a resting in place inside that treasure chest from our major ice cream overload in City Place. What you never realized, was that you were my golden egg. I had already found it. You were the most precious thing that this world hid, hoping that I would find you on some random day in Texas in the lobby of a hotel next to the gaudiest chandelier I've ever seen made of elk horns.

I had the roughest day, up since 5AM traveling for work, questioning taking my new job. After a day full of meetings, I went to the hotel bar and downed two glasses of moscato, drowning my homesickness for NYC and praying for anybody but my stale company. By the time I got to the lobby to meet everyone else for our group dinner, I was starving, and you were late. We had to spend forever waiting for you to come down to meet us. You were fortunate enough to miss the first day of meetings and took a later flight. When I finally met you, I was pissed because, after all, you were keeping me from food on what was quite possibly measuring up to be one of the worst days of my entire life. 

Everyone abandoned us by the end of the night, leaving us at a random bar to down our whiskey sours. I thought they hated me so much they decided to leave me with you. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the soul that felt so familiar behind those chestnut eyes, but it was in that moment I realized I found it. You were the strength I never knew I needed, the love I never knew existed. You were the golden egg among all of the plastic pastels. 

We were inseparable past that moment, each finding the golden eggs we were searching for in life's egg hunt. You listened to my sermons on end, giving me feedback until I was sure they were perfect enough to give at church. I watched the multiple edits of your videos until we picked the one that we thought would work best for social media. We created our own rhythm, able to predict each other's feelings, hopes and dreams with a simple glance. So in sync, that strangers would stop us to tell us how much they sensed our belonging together.

And then, on an unassuming day, in the rain, thousands of miles a part from each other, our eggs cracked. We tried to put them back together, we tried to make them as golden and as shiny as before. That's the thing about relationships, though. You can't keep them shiny, you can't keep the eggs fresh. You have to accept the cracks, the smells, the rottenness that sometimes comes out at 4AM after a long night of fighting. You have to remember that you can never keep them as golden as you found them, but you can do everything in your power to make them feel golden always...to look past the flaws, the cracks, the stink of it all. To mend the cracks with unconditional love.

I hope you find me again. I hope you reach out. Even if we decide that this cannot be, at least we will have some sort of connection left to the most golden part of our lives. After all, we knew on that day that we had a special connection that would never exist anywhere else, because we were (are) the luckiest.

We found the golden eggs. 

<3 M. 

The Sacrifice

The Sacrifice

The Deleted Scenes

The Deleted Scenes