Socks

Socks are pesky. They somehow always end up missing. Every time I do laundry I come up a few socks short. My sock drawer is a sanctuary for lonely matchless socks. My dog doesn't help the situation either. As soon as a sock hits the floor it mysteriously disappears as a blur of white fur races under the bed to add to his collection. Last time we moved, when it was time to load the bed into the moving truck, many of the poor lonely fellows living in my sock drawer suddenly were joined with their long lost partners.

Today was another beautiful day in North Carolina. I can see where they get the term "Carolina Blue". From the color of the sky day after day, even as my hometown is dumped upon with snow. Although it was a bit chilly, we decided to go for an evening stroll before dinner. Our bouncing baby rode on her daddy's shoulders as we trekked around the lake behind our house and I, feeling chipper from the beautiful weather, gabbed on and on about the trees and the lake and the deer tracks and about who knows what else. Whatever the topic, it distracted us enough to get halfway around the lake before we realized that our sweet angel had abandoned her sock somewhere along the way. Not wanting to add yet another friendless sock to the pile, we turned around and retraced our steps.

We searched for the little guy, as we walked back the way we came, noticing quite a few things that looked like socks along the trail. A piece of paper, a plastic bag, a crushed paper cup. It began to seem like we were not going to reclaim the sock that had left our tot's tootsy chilled. Maybe it had fallen off in the house? Maybe an animal had gotten to it first? We had almost completely retraced our steps and were just about home when I felt our pooch tug at his leash. Then I noticed the treasure he had discovered. A new sock for his under the bed collection.