November 6
I know there are more than a few folks in town who would be surprised to learn I don't fold underwear or match up my socks when I'm putting away the laundry. I consider it remarkable that I find the time to actually wash the clothes. Towels, sheets and "real clothes" get neatly folded or hung (as soon as the dryer turns off whenever possible, because I don't look fondly on ironing either), but everything else gets dumped from the basket to its appropriate drawer. What grannie called foundation garments are in the top left; socks one drawer below.
This morning I was pawing through my jumbled collection of socks, looking for a match to an olive one I had already plucked from the drawer. One that I knew perfectly matched the sweater I had on. Unsuccessful in my search for the muted green mate I happened to hold up a plum one of the same type -- ribbed cotton -- near the original olive one. Nice color combination, I noted and continued digging. My eye kept being drawn to the purple one. There was no denying it looked really perfect paired with the green. And they were the same kind of socks so they wouldnąt feel odd in my shoes. But could I? Did I have the nerve? Whether or not I actually decided I had the nerve I don't recall, but I clearly remember not having any more time to spend searching for socks, having already lost most of the morning trying to catch up to my shadow. I pulled the two in my hand onto my feet, shoes followed, and off I went for the day.
As soon as I stepped out of my house I felt instantly less sure. Truth be told, I felt rather panicked. I took careful, measured steps that didn't cause my pants to shift too much. I was sure to be found out and it was going to be by someone important. Whether their importance was in my mind or their own was still to be seen. As the day went on though, and I stole glances at the rather becoming color combination that were my socks, my angst and apprehension subsided. I did my banking, grocery shopping, and washed my car at one of those squirt-it-yourself-for-$2.00 car washes, wearing two different color, but entirely complimentary socks.
Later in the afternoon, I was back at my kitchen table visiting with Barbra who for the third time in her forty-one years is battling cervical cancer . This time, though it is never spoken, we know she is losing. We've known for a couple of months I think. Of course, I only know the likely outcome in big broad terms that can be dismissed sometimes by simply not meeting anyone else's gaze at the dinner table when asking for the butter or salt. Barbra though, she knows in finely detailed, definite, and important ways. She doesn't avoid looking into folk's eyes these days, she's not wanting to waste time that way, not while she's readying the rest of us.
No one was saying much of anything as her six year old, freckle-faced daughter, Becky, sat on the floor with the only one of my three cats that will tolerate humans under the age of twelve. One couldn't miss that the child's expression was far too serious for all her youth and freckles as she gently stroked the purring animal.
When I happened to reposition in the chair and crossed my legs, my jeans rode up my shins enough to clearly reveal my hidden mismatch. The child covered her quick smile with her hand and giggled as though maybe she shouldn't let on to her mom, or anyone, what she had just seen. Then the little one looked me straight in the eye as she gave each of her pant legs a little tug. With her eyes she led my gaze to her own small feet. Pink on the right, green on the left; also ribbed cotton. I winked at her and our exchange was complete. That was the instant Becky knew I knew the secret too.
Upon noticing her daughter's unmatched stockings, Barbra quietly shook her head. "Would you look at that? I'm really worried about that one." she said, trying with a small smile to convince at least me that she was talking about her daughter's dressing habits.
"Well you needn't be." I tried to assure her. I swung both feet out from under the kitchen table and planted them in plain view. "She'll be just fine."
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My Previous Journal Entries:
November 3 - Well if that don't sound just like...
November 1 - The Keys to Life.
October 28 - When you care enough to not send the very best.
October 18 - The deeper dying.
October 15 - Under one roof.
October 10 - Gay White Male.
October 9 - Power of the people.
October 8 - An adulterous tale.
October 7 - Winter wishes.