Socks

I should be blogging about Christmas and all the festivities, but that involves uploading a bunch of pictures and I just don't feel like it right now. That will have to wait. My post tonight is going to be about socks. When I went in for a D&C for the miscarriage, the nurse put some gray hospital socks on my feet. You know the kind that have no heel and white plastic nubbies on the bottom for some traction. The kind that have a very thin elastic string around the top and don't stay in place at all. On that day, nothing felt better than getting those fuzzy socks on my cold feet lying in bed awaiting the procedure. In a strange way those socks seemed to warm my heart a bit too. And everyday since that day those gray socks sit in my top drawer just waiting to be put on after a bad or hard or upsetting day. I would have thought that I wouldn't have ever wanted to see those socks again because of the memory they hold, but instead I relish the warmth those gray socks bring. On each disappointing, discouraging, sad, depressing day those gray socks find their way out of the drawer and onto my feet and each and every time since that first day they bring me comfort, warmth, and a bit of inner strength that I didn't know that I had. I refer to those days now as my gray sock days. For Christmas, my mom gave me some new socks. I tried them on tonight, and they are even softer and warmer than those gray socks and even have a bit of aloe in them. They are pretty fancy and might take the place of those gray socks for my bad days. But I have a feeling on those days when I need strength the most, the gray socks might just make their way out of the top drawer again.