Easter Morning - Red

 Chris has asked for a red story and i am happy to oblige


We biked in the clear sunlight of the morning to the bread shop. The bread shop sat across the street from the church, and was opening early, before our wake-up time. Kiria Angelikh stood there, straight, with the hands resting on the counter and dressed in black. She was dressed in black today, and was probably going to wear black for the rest of her life, because she was a widow. But she was also wearing a smile, because she had other family left to care for, and be cared for by. She was selling bread and koulourakia. The sunny air around the church was witness to how fresh the bread was. Perhaps the church's bells were ringing happy because of that smell this morning, even though it was lent. She handed us our bread, and cookies and her fingers were red. There was not need to ask the question, she had been dyeing eggs, and all we had to do was answer to her: “Kalh Anasthash” before walking out the door! And the day was going to be good.

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