I had forgotten that going to church meant waking up early.
As the alarm clock ('Wecker' auf Deutsch) peeped cheerfully at me from beside my bed, I could not help but groan and swing my hand a bit aimlessly, trying for the snooze. How, I wondered, had I ever woken up at 6:30 (35 if the snooze button counts) every day, no more than a week ago? It was inhumane.
At the second chorus of beeping, I could not ignore it. 7:35...we were supposed to be leaving at quarter past eight. I had to get moving now if I wanted to find something suitable to wear and make sure that my hair was not a complete disaster (as it had been the entirety of vacation). I drag myself out of bed just in time to hear the knock on the door.
"Ja?" I say, trying to sound more awake than I really was. Theresa (pronounced Tair-ay-sah, not how we English-speakers say it), my 12 year old hostsis, pushes the door open carefully and asks me if I do know that we are going.
"Jetzt?!" I burst out, panicked. Now?
No, she tells me, but soon. I start to breath again and she goes off to finish getting ready. I turn to my wardrobe (not a closet, but a piece of furniture), opting to turn on the light than do battle with my blinds. Okay, I think. What do you wear to Ostergottesdienst in Germany? For that matter, what do you wear to an Easter service anyway? I stretch my mind, trying to remember last Easter, to what I was wearing then, but it's such a world away that I cannot even picture it. A skirt, I think, immediatly correcting myself with the German Rock. A skirt works. And Strumpfhose, I need those. What for Schuhe? Worry about that later, Patsy. First the skirt. I mean, Rock.
The first one I try one is too small. An Old Navy size 0, it had once been slightly too big. Now it doesn't fit over my thighs. I throw it aside, deciding not to think about it. A colored bit of fabric is visible from behind the heaps of (unfolded) clothes. The HBG skirt. The skirt that myself and three of my closest friends had shared for two summer, semi-successfully in rotating it from girl to girl. I pull it on and immediatly feel much better. Not only does it fit, it's too big. It always was, but the fact that it has stayed that way makes me happy. I pull on a white t-shirt, the one with the V-neck and loose bottom that my dad always hated but is now such a must for me, as it does not cling and show off my too-big stomach. A jacket that does not exactly match and and I'm done with the clothing. Thank God. I take my Haargummi to the bathroom, deciding to use product in my hair to keep it from flying everywhere, and even applying a little eyeliner, though declining Theresa's offered mascara, as I am so bad with it that if I don't take more time with it than I have I'll end up with two black eyes for Easter. I take my pile of pink-wrapped packages--Easter gifts--and hide them around downstairs while Annette (my hostmom) is getting her shoes and Theresa is picking out a bag. Then we go.
The service is ok. The choir is pretty, and I get communion, something I have been missing. It also only goes about an hour and a half, though the church is empty. I think of last Easter, my vague recollections of Daddy's church bursting at the seams with people, and feel a little sad. Then we go home, and things are happy again.
First, breakfast: Brötchen, butter, jam, honey, Wurst, Käse, scrambled eggs and bacon (I am so surprised to see them that I comment to Jose, my 14 year old hostsis, about actually having an American breakfast for once), croissaints both plain and chocolate, and hard boiled eggs--so many!--colored in greens and purples and reds and yellows. I eat until I feel sick, thinking of Easter dinner yet to come. And then we hunt for gifts.
The Osterhase comes to Germany too. Everyone has a gift for everyone, all hidden around the house, and we search gleefully, in cupboards and behind books and all over until each of us has a large pile of really pretty, yummy, cool stuff. I'm giddy, giggling, joking about my inability to find even the easiest gifts. We sample the Lindt eggs and Milka chocolates later upstairs, after having traded for favorites and started playing computer games together.