I miss them. I miss how they squeezed my feet like little hugs and I could slide on the wooden floor. I miss how soft they were and the fact that I had another pair just as wonderful in a different pattern and I would trade off wearing them so they wouldn't get their feelings hurt. I try and watch a movie now but it's not the same. My feet feel cold and lonely and dissatisfied. Even the popcorn doesn't taste as good. I liked the way they met me at the door and made me feel home, like I belonged. I'd put them on first thing and head to my big jar of nutella. It made me happy.
My cabin socks were more than just for my feet. They covered my heart.
I'd get woolied practically to death and those socks clung for dear life. I'd grab the dogs' face with both socked feet when she sloppy licked me right on the face and wrestle her back. I'd crawl out from under the Christmasy blanket and make my way to the warm bathroom and back again to find my place on the couch. I'd point them like hands during the "you know what YOU are" game and the kids made me curl them up in a ball laughing. I hated taking them off until I absolutely had to so sometimes I'd sneak outside when I forgot something in the car, trying hard to barely touch the ground so they wouldn't get too dirty.
Yeah. I miss my socks.
No comments:
Post a Comment