Easter eggs colored at a family Easter celebration years ago. It feels like lifetimes ago. At the time, Cashel was the only grandchild, so we were doing this with him, me, my sisters, my mother. We were in the kitchen of my parents’ house, coloring eggs, and having fun. My dad was still alive. Neither Jean nor Siobhan were married yet. And none of the other grandchildren had arrived. It’s strange. I want to “go back” to that time, when Dad was alive. But then I’d miss all the nieces and nephews who have arrived since he passed.
So. One bowl of vivid-colored Easter eggs makes me think of all of that.
