Friday, February 10, 2017

socks


A few weeks before my mother died, I lent her a pair of socks, which she wore until she went to the hospital for the very last time. I found them the other day and put them in the wash. I’m wearing them today and I feel like somehow the more I wear them, the less of her will remain inside them.

 

But I’m now greedy about these socks, I feel like they are the pair my mother and I share. I want to wear them and yet I don't. I don't want them to tear. But they're just socks, and they were a gift from a man who is now .... well.
***


Sigh. They're just socks. In all likelihood, one of them is going to disappear into the black hole of our washing machine. The end is predictable.  


Sometimes I wish emotional associations were just as straightforward.

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