Easter in a tree house, 
Swiss family Hatfield,

They colored eggs in the 'fifth wheel.'
A “tree house” according to my four year-old.
My father-in-law’s tree house. He followed work to the neighboring state. 

Only three hours away. His boss set up the fifth wheel behind the shop for him to stay in during the week. 

A gravel parking lot. Next to a drainage ditch. Cattycorner to the back of a metal shack, Mexican restaurant. 
Across the street from an adobe Stubbs grocery. 

My parents wanted us to bring my son to their house. His cousins. Big backyard. Gift baskets. Egg-hunting in the grass. 

We went to see my father-in-law. in the gravel parking lot.
 
Easter morning, we got up early. 
We hid the eggs in the parking lot. 
Under the corroded, 
hazardous, 
rusted stairway 
out of the tree house. 

One in a ridge of the metal siding on the back wall of the shop. 
A couple in drainage spouts. 
Several in the wheel wells, 
fenders, 
exhaust pipes of our cars. 

Three in a tiny stretch of grass next to the drainage ditch. 

Two behind cement parking barriers.
 
Unknowingly, one in the opening of the fifth wheel's waste tube. 

Father-in-law let us know, during the hunt.
We led my son away from that one.
I sent my husband to wash his hands. 

Amazing,
my son never questioned 
that THE Easter Bunny 
had come to the gravel parking lot 
behind a machine metal shop, 
and hidden eggs 
in the wheel wells 
of our cars.