The Hunt: A Writing Exercise

     As a special treat for Easter, today’s word was “hunt”. I used it to introduce Uncle Pete, who is an important character and pivotal relationship for Eleanor “Elle” Davidson in Finding Home. Everyone should have an Uncle Pete in their life. I know I do (although, he is an Uncle Mike). I hope you enjoy getting a chance to meet Pete and see a pintsize Elle. 😊

Pinkies Up!

The Hunt

By: Melissa Whiney

The still damp grass squished beneath Pete’s sneakers as he walked through the maze of egg hunting children and laughing parents. His two-year-old niece Eleanor’s little hand blanketed in his, as he guided her towards a bright pink egg. Its smooth plastic almost glittered in the sun. It was just an egg but looking down at Eleanor’s chipmunk-cheeked smile and bright hazel eyes it was suddenly the most important egg in the world. It would be the first time his niece would find an Easter Egg.

            At sixteen, he had experienced many first times for himself. Like three years ago, when he had had his first real kiss with Melanie Monroe, who became his first girlfriend and subsequent first breakup. There had been many more firsts for Pete, but nothing thrummed happiness through him like witnessing Eleanor’s firsts. Her first giggle, which he was convinced had happened when he played peek-a-boo at the hospital nursery window with his newborn niece. Her first taste of chocolate pudding, which he snuck her despite his sister telling him not to give her daughter any pudding. Her first steps, which happened on the shag carpet of his parents’ living room as Pete lounged on the floor with his niece. In Eleanor’s short two years, he cheered her on for all her firsts.

            “You got this!” he said, a goofy grin spread across his face as she stumbled towards the pink plastic egg.

            “Got it!” a sandy haired little boy chirped, scooping up the egg, and tossing it into his basket.

            Pete stood, dumbfounded. Eleanor’s little feet glued in place, her eyes darting between the little boy, a blue basket dangling from his left hand, and Pete who gapped. The little boy’s gray eyes looked at Eleanor and then back to another little boy with dark floppy hair.

            “Egg.” She pointed to the little boy’s basket.

            Pete wanted to rip the egg out of the basket and hand it to his niece, but the little boy did nothing wrong. Eleanor was still half a foot away when he reached the egg first. This was the dog-eat-dog world of the VFW’s Annual Easter Egg Hunt. Pete had lost countless eggs and stolen even more as a little boy.

            “There are more eggs to find,” Pete assured, squeezing Eleanor’s hand.

Her eyes remained fixed on that pink egg. The little boy, who was a year or so older than Pete’s niece, frowned looking between a sad faced Eleanor and his friend.

“Sorry.” The little boy plucked the egg out of his basket and held it out for Eleanor.

“Egg!” Eleanor squealed, taking the egg from the little boy. With a giggle she held it up to Pete.

“What do we say to the nice boy?” A warm smile fixed to Pete’s face. It may be cutthroat at the Easter Egg Hunt, but this was a nice boy and he liked that there were nice boys out there for his niece. All he wanted was a world full of nice for her.

“Thanks,” she said, her face lit with happiness.

The little boy grinned.

“Come on CJ, let’s go!” The other little boy dragged him away.

As the two boys scampered off, Pete continued his egg hunt with Eleanor. She may have that shiny pink egg in her basket, but that was the first egg given to her. There was still a mission to experience Eleanor finding her own egg. The idea of watching her zero in on a goal and achieve it seemed important to him. Not only did he want his niece to have a lifetime of niece, but a life full of reaching for things and getting them. A life of seeing what she wanted and taking it. All he wanted for her was everything. That was not too much to ask, was it?

“Purple!” Eleanor cried, glee seeming to vibrate through her as she waved frantically at a purple egg.

“Let’s get it,” Pete said, lifting her into his arms and running towards the egg. His gaze scanning around them to avoid trampling any children and to ensure nobody stole this egg. He could not count on another CJ to just give up their found egg.

Reaching the egg, he placed Eleanor on the grass. She trotted towards the egg that sat beside the root of a not-yet budding tree. Despite the above sunshine basking the morning in warmth, it was early April in Western, NY. The last snow had just melted. The bloom of spring was still weeks away.

“Egg!” she shrieked with joy, hoisting the egg into the air.

“Nice job!” he cheered holding her pink and purple basket in front of her. “Nothing but basket.” Prideful elation flooded every inch of him as she placed the egg into the basket.

Her big smile blasted as she lifted her arms in the air. “Uncle Pete!’

Placing the basket on the ground by his feet, he scooped her up into his arms. “That’s my girl,” he said, bending to grab the basket.

“So, she’s my competition,” a soft voice cooed causing Pete to turn around.

His heart stuttered as his gaze landed on Janet Michaels. Her long dark hair swept back in a braid revealing her sweet smile and big brown eyes. A bright yellow sweater swam on her petite frame, but fitted stonewash jeans accentuated her toned legs and small hips. These would things that he should not be noticing, while holding his niece. Things that made him feel like not being a nice boy.

Janet may not be his first kiss nor his first girlfriend, but she would be his last. His friends told him he was lovesick. His older sister rolled her eyes. His parents told him he was too young. He may be all those things, but above all he knew he was right. Just as he wanted Eleanor to have a lifetime of possibility, he wanted a lifetime with Janet.

“Janet!” Eleanor reached for her.

“I think you’re my completion,” he joked, handing Janet his niece.

“Come here squirt.” Janet took Eleanor, who nuzzled into her arms.

The three of them wandered through the VFW’s lawn. Eleanor’s little legs run towards different colored eggs hidden in the grass, beneath picnic tables, and beside trees. CJ appeared again, handing her another pink egg before running away with his little friend.

“I think he has a crush on Eleanor,” Janet said, pointing at CJ as he ran towards a man with a bowtie speckled with tiny pink bunnies.

Pete’s brow winkled. “She’s too young for that.”

“I don’t know.” Janet lifted Eleanor up pointing to CJ who chased another little boy. “Do you like that boy?”

Eleanor’s face was pink and then she buried it in Janet’s chest.

“She’s too young,” Pete protested with a scowl.

“They say we’re too young but when you know, you know,” Janet sassed, winking at him.

Pete shook his head. “Let’s wait ‘til I am sixty before we marry her off. Come here kiddo.” He reached for Eleanor.

“NO!” Eleanor whined, her arms wrapping tighter around Janet. “Aunt Janet,” she pouted.

Aunt Janet? Pete’s eyes grew wide. His gaze flicked to Janet expecting her to be horrified with her mouth slack at being sixteen and dubbed “Aunt”.

He was used to it. Amanda, his sister, had Eleanor when he was fourteen. He had been an uncle when most of his friends were simply brothers. He liked being an uncle way better than being a brother. Uncle meant responsibility. It meant taking care of someone. Not someone, but Eleanor. Before his niece, he was just Pete. Now, he was Uncle Pete. How would Janet react to Eleanor proclaiming her “Aunt Janet”?

“Guess I am your completion, after all,” Janet said, a self-impressed smirk etched on her face. “Don’t worry Eleanor, you can stay with Aunt Janet while Uncle Pete carries the basket.”

Eleanor looked up, her face bright with a happy grin.

“Let’s go find more eggs,” Janet said, turning and carrying Eleanor towards the crowd of children still hunting.

Aunt Janet and Uncle Pete. His lips tugged up with that thought. It was another first and he knew there would be a lifetime of more to come.