Throughout my life I have always felt torn between tradition and adventure.
I love the comfort and reliability of tradition. I love knowing what to expect. I love looking back and marking time by the familiar rhythm of certain annual rituals.
And yet, I love the spontaneous adventures that come from breaking from ritual. I love the new experiences that tradition can hinder. I love the strong memories that are born from doing something markedly different from every other year.
This year’s Easter held a little bit of ceremony and ritual and a little bit of adventure. A touch of tradition and a dash of the irregular. And it was lovely.