I believe I was around seven when I got my first Lindt Goldhase for Easter. A bright golden hare, with a red ribbon collar with a tinkling golden bell attached. I put off eating the chocolate as long as I could, because this Easter hare was of course utterly magical for a seven-year old girl.
Remember the first weeks of a new romance, when you tell each other your childhood stories? The wild rush of dancing butterflies that make you talk non-stop to bring Mr. Right up to speed as if there is no time to loose?
Well, I told Kenji about my Goldhase. Next Easter he presented the not-by-far-seven-year-old-anymore with a shiny Goldhase. I felt the magic all over again - and still do on Easter, since Kenji now buys me ánd the boys one every year.
It wasn't until I saw the Goldhase on Daan's blog, that I thought of our tradition. The fact that my spinning mind hadn't even missed it this Easter made me deeply sad. Worse things happen than a lost 100gr of German chocolate, for sure. But cancer is messing with cherished family traditions and that is truly grievous.
The mailman delivered an ordinary brown box this afternoon. Sender: Daan. Contents: a.o. Goldhase 1x. Dankeschön liebe Daan!