Word Winding

attempting to spin cacophony into sanity

Farewell, Small Sock

Today, I bade farewell to a small, much-loved friend:


This diminutive rocket-ship was once one of a proud matched set, its non-skid “321” (blast-off) the finishing touch on my infant daughter’s tiny foot.

It was my very favorite of all the bitty socklets. Until one day its twin vanished.

One day… nearly three years ago. And yet I squirreled it away in the back of first Owlet’s and then Platypup’s dresser drawer, cherishing an ever-dwindling hope for the lost sole’s triumphant return.

(Pun intended.)

Platypup’s monster claws have certainly outgrown it by now. There are no immediate plans for additions to our family.

I knew the lone sock and I were soon to part. As twilight encroached on our time together, I occasionally brainstormed one or another potential uses for the poor matchless thing. Nothing felt quite right.

And then the call went out to bring a small meaningful object to the UU “Ingathering” service to form a sort of collage/time capsule hybrid, which is apparently the custom each September.

You know what I chose.

In honor of the cuddly babe whose toes it once warmed.
In honor of the imperfections, the failures, the unfixable moments.
In honor of the inherent dissimilarity of siblings.
In honor of streamlining and letting go.
In honor of recognizing the perfect opportunity and not hesitating to seize it.


Possibly the last photo of rocket-sock-clad Owlet (using my Facebook albums as a quick reference, because I am not crazy enough to wade through the digital snowdrifts of baby’s first year photos). We were at my inlaws, and it never turned up there, so I strongly suspect it made its escape in an airport or homeward-bound plane. My hope is that it had a delightful voyage to distant lands and was eventually picked up by some discerning individual who made it into a lavender satchel or a teenie doll sleeping bag or a coin purse or some other such thing.


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