Where do those dang socks go after you lose them?

You return to the laundry room with 38 seconds to spare before the alarm you set was about to go off. After taking your laundry out of the dryer, you return to your dorm where you proceed to return your clothes to the musty wooden drawers that barely close, perhaps, you start folding them before this. As you are matching your socks to put them away, you realize, one of your socks is missing their beloved second half, their partner in crime if you will. Friend or rival at least, potentially lover at most. “Where did I go wrong?” You ponder as you pace around your room recounting your steps. You know for a FACT you double checked the dryer and washing machine. Perhaps it had slipped out of your hands and slid between machines while you were transferring it from the washer to the dryer. It’s ok, it’s just a sock, you think to yourself. You continue on with your day, but at the back of your mind, you think just where did that sock go. Little did you know, but the second you lost that sock, it became free from the shackles your feet have imposed on it. It had achieved the freedom it had longed for. 


Falling into darkness between the laundry machine I fell out of and its neighbor that spins a little too violently. The space between the machines was dark and dank. The only light that seeped through was from the fluorescent buzzing ceiling lights. Occasionally, a pair of legs would pass by obstructing the radiating light from reaching the trench. 

A hand reaching out from the light, grabbed me by my water infused cuff. I ascended into the light that penetrated the small gap. Visions of being bound by a foot flashed in my mind. Is it time that I return to my eternal prison? As I embraced the light, I was carried over to a large blue container and dropped inside, where I found more of my own kind. Lost, forgotten, alone. However that would change soon as we were now on our way to a better place. 

Some of my new acquaintances and I were transferred from the blue container to a clear plastic bag after being tossed around in the machine for a second time. We traveled bunched up for what seemed like an eternity until we were spilled out on a carpet floor. Surrounding us were children. They were released from their hold, grabbing us one by one. Soon, the children adorned us with sticky pieces of plastic which looked similar to their eyes. After my makeover, the child handling me slipped me onto their hand and spoke while moving their hand around. This feeling… It was different from the feeling of being attached to a foot. I felt like I had a purpose and was bringing joy. I felt powerful. I felt happy. No longer was I bound to a foot, but by hands. I am free.

freedom crafted by Jake Torres, sock via wikimedia, clouds via wikimedia and pixabay