A Memory of a Memory

I remember a picture. Rather I remember self-awareness, a need to remember. I was being held by my grandma, outside an apartment building or something similar and was with my brother and grandpa. In my memory, everything is pink. I haven’t yet found that pink picture, but the memory, the conscious thought that I should freeze this moment in my mind remains. I must have been a few years old, at least. It was at a time when we were near my grandparents in California. I had spent the first few years of my life in Nepal, of which I have little memory. I know we lived in a village and I ate rice and daal every day and onions straight from the garden. I played with my big brother, Jonathan and the village kids. My parents moved to Nepal when my brother was 8? months and I was my mom says more than a glimmer but not yet in physical existence yet. I guess I’ve always been a bit sentimental as I have another memory of missing my friends from Nepal when I was all of 4 years old or so and living in Mexico. Particularly I remember missing a girl named Sabine (pic) who is now an author of her experiences in New Guinea after they left Nepal, also a movie now. I have read her book (translated from German)