Two Socks Wandering the Streets

Two Socks Wandering the Streets

Or the case of the two black socks wandering the blocks.  For the past couple of weeks, I have been doing a random sock study which was imposed upon me by chance.  First, I saw a lost black sock laying on the pavement of one of the streets where I walked.  As I rounded the corner, down the sidewalk to the next block, its mate was sitting in the grass looking just as lost as the first one. They are nice socks, thick black with fuzzy tops which embrace the ankles.  I left the first one I saw resting quietly on the damp road, the thought coming to my mind that a child had lost their sock by taking it off to run barefoot in the grass but looking at the sock it seems to better fit an adult’s foot.  When I walked the next block, I found the mate waiting, gathering moisture from the air.  Two identical socks, lost without an owner living in the street. How lonesome must they be without each other to keep themselves company in the hours passing in the day and night.  

I am reminded of Robert Frost’s poem,” The Road Not Taken”, when I think of these two socks.

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,”

My uncared for black socks are certainly diverged from one another.  I think about picking them up, putting them in the wash and wearing them whenever the mood suits me but they remain on the street waiting, continually getting damp, perhaps partially drying to be picked up by a wandering dog as it walks or runs down the street before moving to a different spot on a different block.  I can see a dog owner, telling a beloved pet to drop it, adding the moisture of a slobbery tongue and mouth to the dew of the night.

I am easily amused, my mother-in-law has commented on it numerous times.  I have a quirky sense of humor and the oddest things just seem to set me off until the man, my husband has to remind me when I am convulsing with laughter. ”Don’t hurt yourself”. This is probably why I find the socks migrating around on the streets so interesting and amusing.  I find myself looking around the corner willing the little bits of fabric to be somewhat along my path.

My mind races when I walk, sometimes with philosophical questions other times with mundane thoughts about a new recipe for dinner.  The man is resigned to beans.  I cook them nearly every week, he is lucky that I haven’t thought of the socks as road kill and bought them home to put them in the kettle for flavor.   Hard to digest? Probably. I know his limitations and someone else’s dirty socks is high on the list. 

I could write a short story about the mysterious socks.  See how they have metamorphosed from lost to mysterious? Hero or heroine? Night or day? Future or past or a blend of each?

The dogs were definitely on her scent and closing, stumbling to her knees, she drew off one of her socks to throw it several feet away.  It landed with an audible thud.  Not surprising with the amount of water that was in it.   Looking with what light was left in the sky, she jumped from where she had been several feet away to a large rain puddle wishing the whole time that she had a creek to walk in or at least more rain to wash all traces of her passing.  She continued her hopping from puddle to puddle leaving the one black sock sitting alone on the pavement.  Finding that the other sock was not helping she stopped pulled it off with frozen fingers and threw as far from her as she could.  She would miss them, the fuzziness, the warmth and just the comfort of having dry socks, she would miss them.  She continued hopping and stepping into the rain puddles without a backward glance.  The baying of dogs hovered in the air.

In all probability, the black fuzzy socks fell out of someone’s backpack on their way home from school.  Unless they were attached to the socks, I doubt that they were missed.  Except in the laundry where all socks disappear.  Mysteries, each day is a mystery to me.  Actually, more like miracles.  I am constantly amazed at me, just me.  I go to sleep, I wake up, I eat and do things.  Amazing.  The black socks on the street are not amazing.  They are just two socks wandering the streets but then I am just wandering the streets as well and I still can’t read the signs for I don’t know where I am going.  But it will be amazing.