The Moya View

Tag: regifts

  • Gifts

    Gifts

    I can’t remember when death turned moments to memorial, gifts unfolded to blessings.   The tan slippers of Christmas past snuggled my mother’s lost toe so the others never mourned.   Those mules never left her feet, even on her final nap. “Bless me Papa,” her last words.   I don’t know if they were…