Moose toes and other friendly reminders.

Grandma always used to wear socks with flip flops around the house. So much so that we grandkids thought she only had two toes on each foot.


Later, Elecia and I lovingly referred to this peculiar sock/shoe combo as Grandma's "moose toes."


Today I was rushing around to go pick up Eliot at daycare and couldn't find my slip-on shoes. The only pair sitting handy by the back door were my flip flops. But I was wearing socks. So, in the spirit of Grandma, I donned moose toes and headed out to go get the boy.





I felt like Grandma was smiling down on me today, just like Granddaddy is there with me everytime a waiter asks, "How do you like your eggs?"


I have these varied reminders in my life of loved ones who have passed on. But their spirits grinning over my shoulder also join with those whom I never got a chance to know. When I can't think of someone's name, I sputter, "Domino!" after a great-grandmother and the family dog whom I never met. She surely couldn't have guessed that her frustration at a failing memory would become a source of recognition and connection for generations to come.


These connections comfort me. It's impossible to feel alone when the universe sends reminders that I am surrounded by family, both present and past. Memory can have a tangible, touchable presence. It's a shoe with socks, a scrambled egg on a breakfast plate. It is bits of personality and individual quirks, phrases repeated and adopted until they weave a web of familiarity around us, as comfortable and as precious as an heirloom quilt.


This is what I have been given. This is what I shall wrap myself in.



(Zayda: the next generation of moose toes!)