Heptadecagon

Many moons ago, when my knees stood closer to the ground, Easter Sunday meant sitting through long homilies, shivering in the cold "spring" air, and eating Easter dinner with just ourselves. I remember thinking that when I was older, I'd like to have family live close so that we could have cars lined up in the driveway and half-way down the street like the neighbors did. I remember thinking about all the ways I'd make Easter special for my kids: lots of candy, Easter egg hunts, family laughter, and hugs. And then, life happened. Two kids turned into three and then four. We didn't live near family, and with school schedules--theirs and mine--traveling in the spring wasn't always feasible. I, especially, got tired of driving like a maniac on Good Friday only to drive like a maniac back home on Easter Sunday. And in recent years, with four kids and two parents who spend time with students, I find that viruses breed by the dozen (or more) right around Easter tim...