Easter was coming, and Mason had arranged a bunch of weekend activities for the children at the homeless shelter. She had boxes of yellow and pink felt, plastic eggs, glue and glitter, feathers and pipe-cleaners, pots and soil and seedlings, and quite a bit more. She had enlisted the help of several of the adults to supervise the activities. It was good for them to see the children having fun and being happy, and to feel useful. There was a kind of despair and depression Mason saw in so many who had lost their bearings, for which there was no cure but passing through, but, the laughter of children and meaningful work were two side-effectless palliatives. Three young teenagers had agreed to decorate the building for Easter as well - Mason had brought tape and huge printed cardboard decorations.

As she packed up the boxes, she wondered if she should invite Nick. She remembered how millie had told her about Nick enjoying finger-painting with the children at the home Maeve administered. He'd probably like helping kids make pipe-cleaner and felt rabbits and chickens, or decorate eggs with glitter, just as much... She started to go look for him to ask him, but stopped, clutching her stomach a bit, having stood too fast and caused herself a cramp. For some reason, after she felt the cramp, she was reluctant to go looking. She wondered if he was out. Maybe he was out, and she should just get going with the supplies, she didn't want to be late.

She thought, though, if she didn't ask him, she'd worry that she should have, and then he'd notice she was worried about something to do with him and think he'd done something wrong, and that would not be good, so she really should go ask him. But for some reason she now didn't want to, was almost afraid to. It was that thing about Nick's memory. He didn't remember doing the finger-painting, and she'd had such a bad feeling about that hidden memory thing with him... as if there must be something bad about it, for him to have forgotten it (or have been made to forget it). She didn't want to bring back that kind of memory... it wasn't... it wasn't safe.... Mason shivered and shook herself a bit, pushing the thought away, but resolved to go ahead by herself. She hefted a box, cramp seeming to be gone, and carried it down to her car.

Mason felt a twinge of frustration as she wondered for a moment why she was the only one who cared about things like this. No, that wasn't true, millie had given Christmas presents, for example. But why was she surrounded by people who, while otherwise perfect, well not perfect, but, very wonderful indeed, yet they did not care about holidays and the hope and goodwill that holidays brought, the sense of the circle of the year and the circle of life? Easter was about death and resurrection, about springtime after winter, the resurrection of Christ and of the living growing things of the earth, baby animals and plants, eggs that seem lifeless until they hatch into new living creatures, sweetness and bitter-sweetness and all that connects us to everything that is.... she knew they felt that connection, each in his or her own way, it was just that they didn't share Mason's associations of traditional holidays to those feelings, the way she did. It was still frustrating, but certainly not worth brooding over.

Anyway, the children would love the activities, she thought as she pulled up to the shelter. She brought one box with her into the office, then made another trip for the second. She had planned to do some of the activities today, but she no longer felt like it, and there was plenty of time until Easter, of course. She passed the afternoon passed in busy work and then the evening; she planned on returning the next Saturday to initiate the activities and help the adult volunteers by showing them what the materials could be used for. Then all would be ready for next weekend even if she could not be present herself, though she really hoped she wouldn't miss it.

There would be more activities each weekend until Easter Sunday, with children who had not got to participate the first time around, getting first choice at each activity. Mason thought she had brought enough supplies for the three weeks, but if not, she could always get more. Mason headed home, happy memories of childhood Easter egg decorating and hiding them for her brother and cousins to hunt for all over the yard, playing through her mind, easing her tension. By the time she pulled into the garage under the white apartment building, she was at peace, soothed by memories, smiling to herself softly. She walked up the stairs for the exercise, since she wasn't carrying boxes anymore, and felt a pang of happiness at anticipation of seeing her family, as she stepped to the door of their apartment.