My wife grew up in a family of seven kids and on a farm with a big flock of chickens. Coloring eggs, both banty and the larger sizes were a big part of Easter for her and her siblings. Being an artsy-craftsy type to begin with, she continued the tradition when she had her son, and with me when he was no longer interested.
When the first granddaughter came along, she envisioned herself coloring eggs with another generation. Sadly, despite the girl living only a few minutes away, that never happened. She had hopes once again, when the second granddaughter came along, but had the same experience. I’ve continued to color eggs with her most years, though I could sense the melancholy from old memories and denied opportunities.