For absent friends and family.
By Michelle Garren Flye
it’s a Gift, she said, holding it tight.
why don’t you open it? i replied.
oh no, she laughed, you don’t open it.
i studied the golden wrappings,
the shiny, shimmering bow.
what do you do with it then? i said.
for answer, she breathed and laughed and cried—
she played and lived as the Gift slowly faded.
but she held it like a treasure the whole time.
only then did i see my own Gift bound in gold.
i wondered how i hadn’t noticed it before—
though i’d held it until its light had gone.