The first time I saw them I was a little grossed out;  I wondered why anyone would want to eat purple hard-boiled eggs, but my new family did – to them they were a special treat.

Grandpa for sure was a big fan.

We didn’t have them often; Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, they were holiday fare.

They were special to the family, but to me, well, they were just funny looking eggs that had been sitting in something I’d probably never eat – beets!

Just to be polite, I tried them half an egg, a beet or two, and who knew?

As the holidays would near, I would look forward to them, not just for the joy that came with the happy days of celebration, but for family tradition of pickled beets and eggs and the memories they brought.


Each week, the lovely and talented Ivy Walker hosts a link-up challenging writers to spin a tale in six sentences – no more, no less. Click on the link right here to find out more and link your own post. While you’re there, click on the blue frog button to find more stories from some wonderful storytellers.

This week’s prompt was pickle.