Monday, January 20, 2003

I had, until recently, a

I had, until recently, a pair of socks that I particularly liked.  They were warm and cozy and stylish and very fuzzy on the inside.  I thought they were the best socks ever because every time I wore them I got sokfuz on my feet.  That was proof, I thought, that they had the most going for them of all the socks - so much cozy fuz they could afford to shed a little on me each time I took them off.  But finally I wore out the toes and reluctantly had to consign them to the dustheap of history.  I got new socks which turned out to be even cozier and warmer than the old ones.  I put them on and my feet were instantly cradled in softness and cush.  It’s the nicest feeling I’ve had below the ankles without another person being involved.  And here’s the thing: there’s no off-fuzzing.  All that softness and thermal protection is staying right where it’s supposed to be.  It makes me think that there’s an important difference between giving a lot and leaving a piece of yourself behind, and giving it all and retaining your integrity.  Are my socks a metaphor for life?  Isn’t everything?