December 29, 2020
A letter to my mother
I ordered myself some of those Lovely Annie socks, the kind you've been wearing for some years now. I chose to get black and red ones, although I think I have mostly seen you wear navy blue and tan-brown ones, maybe even a salmon pink version? They came in 5-packs, either a color variety or one specific shade. So now I have five black pairs and five red pairs of my own!
I am on a perpetual Quest for The Perfect Sock— socks that deliver comfort, warmth, breathability, endurance, style, and economy. The Holy Grail of socks, in fact. With the chilly winter temperature setting of our household, I am rediscovering the joys and warmth of knee socks.
I also bought these socks because of the name— who can resist "Lovely Annie," right? It sounds like a Gaelic folk song title, something our Irish ancestors would have crooned to their cradled bairns, or jigged to at a village wedding.
But I also bought some of these fine-looking socks because I’ve never found any other brand of socks with these peculiar textile flecks in the weave. You’ve been wearing these type of socks for long enough that I instantly identified their “look” with you. When the red pairs arrived this morning, I opened the package with a palpable sense of nostalgic comfort. This made me realize that I REALLY ought the socks because they remind me of YOU.
The moment I saw the rust red fabric with its speckled little pops of color, I smiled. I reverently opened the package. When I slipped one of these springy, accommodating socks over my foot and sealed the top under my knee, I felt like I was being enfolded in the comfort of my childhood Home. (Which is funny, because while you definitely wore knee socks when I was a child, I don’t think you had yet discovered these Lovely Annie ones.)
I am sure that the tactile embrace of the material, and visual connection of the socks with you, have combined to create a sacred, cotton-blend vessel of grace— a wearable sacrament of connectedness during a time of physical disconnect and pandemic-caused isolation.
I love the socks! They are so pretty, comfortable, and have an excellent fit. I don’t think they will be as warm as my wool socks, but I may wear them as an under-layer, WITH the wool socks... My feet get very cold these days.
But I also love the socks as an extension of loving you! It seems like I am seeing your feet right now, when I look down at my toes! (Although I had no idea that the red ones had such a nice bright seam embroidered across them! The black ones have a more subdued stripe of olive green at the toes, and I seem to recall that the tan ones and navy ones may be more conservative in color at the toe seams— maybe you can take a photo of YOUR feet along with some of your pairs, to send back to me.)
Maybe by some quirky, algebraically reciprocal, transfer of emotion the connectedness will flow back to you. Perhaps when you look down at your own feet, you will think, “Maura wears these socks now too.” Thus humble cloth artifacts can convey the grace of love to both of us. Ordinary humble socks, transformed through association into a homely sacrament.
Love,
But I also love the socks as an extension of loving you! It seems like I am seeing your feet right now, when I look down at my toes! (Although I had no idea that the red ones had such a nice bright seam embroidered across them! The black ones have a more subdued stripe of olive green at the toes, and I seem to recall that the tan ones and navy ones may be more conservative in color at the toe seams— maybe you can take a photo of YOUR feet along with some of your pairs, to send back to me.)
Maybe by some quirky, algebraically reciprocal, transfer of emotion the connectedness will flow back to you. Perhaps when you look down at your own feet, you will think, “Maura wears these socks now too.” Thus humble cloth artifacts can convey the grace of love to both of us. Ordinary humble socks, transformed through association into a homely sacrament.
Love,
Demelza
#socks #love #fabric #familyties #humanconnections #home
