The Purple Socks

At the end of 2006 my mom went on a holiday and spent some time in London. When she came back among many other souvenirs, gifts and amazing stories to tell she gave me a pair of socks. At that stage I was someone who spent more of my life in socks than shoes, I barely even knew what my feet looked like anymore so receiving socks from somewhere overseas was special.

They were from London, birthplace of my father so I treasured them for that reason. They are dark purple, stripey, they have white rubber patterned soles and they are toe socks! It doesn’t seem like much but they were a functional, simple gift with so much symbolism. I have probably worn them less than ten times since they were brought back for me. I don’t want to wear them because they were (expensive at £10!) socks from a place I am longing to visit and have not done so yet. I felt wearing them would wear out my dreams of visiting the UK so I preserved the socks, I preserved the dream. So I never wore them.

Last night was a bit chilly and what would match my purple hoodie (note: I am eternally a purple fanatic) than some purple socks! Glancing over my 50+ pairs of socks all strewn in my drawer I see my London-purple-expensive-dont-wear-me-stripey-toe-socks and without a second’s thought pulled them out of the sock crowd and decided to put them on.

Life is life, you don’t know when it will end. Live today for today, wear the good socks, go to the good places, speak all the good words and LIVE!

 

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