There are those of us who think our childhood home and everyone in it was pink.

Life in the seventies and most of the eighties- a bit pastel.

Aging photos.

A little pink,  a bit dog eared, a bit fuzzy.

But not the moments.

They are clear.

And clearer still, for all the times we’ve thought back to them.

That photo of you, then, on your Dad’s shoulders,

Now, that photo of your daughter on yours.

Those moments don’t ever fade or disappear,

They are a link chain  from where you came from to where you are-

Right where you started, surrounded by family.