Thoughts of a Sock

"If the whole body were an eye, where would be the hearing? If the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell? As it is, there are many parts, yet one body." (1 Corinthians 12:17,20)

I and my twin are one of the more common plain white variety. I'm nearly 50 in sock years, and I've been around a bit. I don't remember much about my creation. Most of it is fuzzy. My first clear memory is hanging from the rail in the shop attached firmly to my twin, along with hundreds of other socks. That's when I first began to realise how different we all were. From the rail I could see that we came in many sizes and colours, although we were mostly all the same shape. Some of the socks near me were very brightly coloured, and some had funny pictures or phrases on them. My favourite was a pair that had monkey faces on them, with moving eyes. I would have liked to have got to know them, but they were too far away to have a proper conversation. The socks nearest to me were mostly like me, plain and simple and white. The ones immediately above me were slightly smaller, and the ones below slightly larger. I started off at the back of the rail, but gradually I worked my way forward, and for a couple of days I have a front row seat of the visitors to the shop.

I soon noticed that the visitors were almost as varied as us socks. And just like us, they also seemed to come in many sizes and colours, but just one shape. I found that very interesting. I did notice one big difference though. All of us socks had identical twins attached to us, but although the visitors often came in pairs, or even groups, there were never two alike. It took me a while to realise why this was, and what our function was. As you probably know, most of the time socks are pretty well hidden by the shoes the owner is wearing. So it wasn't until I saw a little boy running past with no shoes on, that I noticed he was wearing socks on his feet. I discussed this with some of the other socks, and after a little more observation, we realised what our purpose was. Then I understood why socks had twins. I can't describe that feeling to you. To suddenly understand why you have been created, why you're here, it's an amazing experience. After that I couldn't wait to be selected, to complete my destiny and provide such a valuable service.

It wasn't long before my wish was granted. I and my twin were soon picked off the rail and taken to our new home with Andrea, our owner. She was about 20 when we met, and she didn't seem to have any problems choosing us. She went straight to us, picked us off the rail together, and transported us out of the shop. It was very reassuring that we were so obviously the socks Andrea wanted. But that reassurance began to leave me, when I realised that it would not be long now before I would be separated from my twin for the first time. In the end is wasn't as bad as I had terrorised myself that it would be. There was no pain when the cord was cut, and although I felt a brief wave of panic at first, as soon as I realised that I was about to be put onto Andrea's foot, the fear was replaced by excitement. I had no idea what to expect. Would it be painful? Would I be able to cope? The only way I can describe the feeling of being put onto Andrea's foot for the first time, is 'fulfilling'. It just felt right, like I had been doing this forever. The hours passed in minutes, and I didn't want to come off again at the end of the day.

That first week with Andrea was a whirl of experiences. First there was a short spell in the Sock Drawer, where we got to meet all of Andrea's other socks for the first time. They were all really nice, and gave us both lots of encouragement. Then there was that first day of being worn. Once Andrea put her shoes on, I couldn't see much, but I was content just to be where I was, doing what I was made to do. She did take her shoes off for a while at the end of the day, and I got to see some of the house. Then it was on to my next experience - the laundry basket. I soon found out that this was where I would spend about half of my time. But with so many different clothes to talk to, the time always passed quickly, and life was never dull. Occasionally I would bump into my twin in there, and we would catch up on things. Then I started to hear stories that made my tremble and shrink. Stories about, The Washer.

The Washer, apparently, was something all clothes had to go through before being moved from the laundry basket back to their homes. It sounded absolutely terrifying, and I was warned that I would indeed find it extremely scary the first time I went through it. But I was reassured by all the clothes that it did no harm at all, and everybody got through it fine each time. Well, just about everybody. There were stories of clothes being destroyed in The Washer, or being stretched or shrunk, or just never coming back. But I soon found out that these were just horror stories made up to scare us. Nevertheless, my first experience of The Washer was the most terrifying thing I have ever been through.

First we were moved from the laundry basket into a carrying basket, and taken downstairs to the kitchen. Then we were all stuffed into The Washer, which is a big metal drum inside a big white metal box. When we were all crammed in, the door was shut behind us. Fortunately the door was made of glass, so we could still see out, and it let in some light. When The Washer was started up, the drum began to fill with water. Hot water. I was trembling with fear by this point. But when I found that being in water was ok, I started to calm down a little. Then the spinning began. The metal drum span round and around and around. Just when I thought it would never stop, it did. And then it would start again. Sometimes the water was drained out, then more was added. Sometimes the water had soap in it, sometimes it didn't. I thought it would never end, and the spinning just got faster and faster, until we were all forced against the sides of the drum and the water that had soaked into us was sucked out again. I had no idea how long the torture lasted, but finally the drum stopped spinning, and everything was quiet and still. I waited, fully expecting the spinning or the water to start again at any moment, but suddenly the door opened, and Andrea pulled us all out, back into the carrying basket. The feeling I had when I realised the experience was over is second only to that I had when I was first put on Andrea's foot. Relief that I cannot describe. We were all taken out into the garden, and attached to a long line, where we were allowed to hang in the sun and recover from our ordeal. The other clothes had been through this many times before, and the reassured me that it got easier each time. But I was never so happy to get back to the Sock Drawer, with my twin curled up with me.

And so it went on for several years. The other clothes were right, going through The Washer did get easier, although none of us particularly enjoyed it. But other things made up for it. With Andrea I got to see many exciting places. We travelled around the world with her, and we never knew where we would be when the suitcase was opened. We went to parties and restaurants, and fields and gardens. Occasionally, on arrival back from The Washer Andrea would mistakenly match me up with a sock that was not my twin. This always caused mixed feelings of concern for my twin, and excitement about being with a different sock. But things always seemed to work out in the end. We met lots of new clothes through the years, and said goodbye to lots as well. That was always sad, and it always made me wonder what would happen to me when my time came.

I thought my time had come when I was lost behind a chair once. Andrea had kicked me and my twin off during the evening, and I had fallen behind the arm chair. I thought she would come and pick me up soon, but I lay there for nearly two weeks before I was found. It was a dark time in my life. There was nothing I could do to let Andrea know where I was, and I became more and more desperate. I think I was starting to go mad, imaging horror stories of my cotton rotting away over the years until there was nothing left. But finally Andrea's cat, Milky, pulled me out from behind the chair while she was playing with me. I was dazed by the light at first, and scared that Milky would destroy me, but Andrea rescued me, and put me into the laundry basket. I was almost pleased to go through The Washer that time. After 2 weeks sitting in the dust, I was worried I would lose my whiteness for ever.

Then one day, several new pairs of socks arrived in the Sock Drawer. By then I was one of the more senior socks in The Drawer, and the arrival of the new socks started me wondering if I was getting too old for this. The trips through The Washer were starting to take their toll, and I was beginning to wear thin in certain places. The biggest fear of all elder clothes, is developing a hole. We knew that usually meant the end was near. A lucky few of Andrea's clothes had been mended and returned, but usually they just disappeared. Now I was getting thin patches, and I was sure a hole was not far off. I was certain my time with Andrea would soon be coming to an end, and I spent many weeks worrying about my future. None of us knew what happened to Andrea's clothes when they left. All we knew was that none had ever returned.

In the end it turned out that I had nothing to worry about. After one final trip through The Washer, instead of being taken back to the Sock Drawer, I and my twin were put into a large plastic bag, along with many of Andrea's other clothes. Most of them were old like us, but a few seemed to be brand new, hardly worn. I think that is worse in a way, to not even know why you are leaving. At least I knew it was because I was getting old, and at least I had been able to serve my purpose for all those years before leaving.

We sat in the bag for only a few days, during which we were transported to our new home. Andrea had donated us to a charity for homeless people. When we arrived we were sorted into different piles, and then taken to our first customer. Things work slightly differently here than at Andrea's. We tend to stay on the feet for much longer periods, and trips through The Washer are more infrequent. But we know that our customers value our service immensely. There is no Sock Drawer here either, no resting about between customers. We are always in constant demand.

And when the inevitable happened, and I started getting holes, I didn't have to worry about being thrown away. I was always mended and sent back out into the field. I have been mended 3 times so far, and it seems that each time the repairs last a little less time. The work is harder here, but it is so much more satisfying. I know that I will end my life doing a job that makes people's lives better. And that makes it all worthwhile.