Giver

Today is a day celebrating
all the ways you have loved me-

ginormous chocolate chip cookies
after seeing the doctor who always said my walking was okay,
but I should still consider allowing
my hamstrings to be cut,
or Botox maybe would loosen me,
to which you replied, “no.”
asserting my legs needed no altering.

Trips to McDonald’s-
two cheeseburgers, fries, and Coke
after Tuesday therapy,
followed by the library
and nightly stretching
with short outbursts to stop
the pain, but you had a way
with ignoring these pleas,
if only to teach me endurance.

Strolling through Barnes & Noble
this past December, after breakfast
at Waffle House-chocolate chip
waffles of course-
you were helping look for C.S Lewis, though I said
I wouldn’t buy anything,
and came out with an entirely different book.

The Giver, aptly named for you
who knows I cannot go
without a book.
Even if I do not read
at quite the same speed
because I savor,
rather than skim through meaning.

I know what you say:
I hold too tightly to a past
that can never again be
but these stain glass memories
keep me gazing at what
may be rebuilt from these shatters
God brilliantly colored without
our knowledge throughout the years.

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