A Taken Toe Sock

For the contest "Rock my Socks". Where do all those missing socks go?

Tabitha stood behind the dryer, remembering how her heart had once held a beat not dissimilar to the current thumping of this machine.  She placed her hand atop the shuddering device, closed her eyes and tried to recall the faces of her loved ones.  There was nothing but blank white behind her lids (just one face please just one).  The dryer suddenly became still and Tabitha was jolted out of her blinding white non-memories by the callous buzzing of the dryer, notifying her that it had completed its cycle.  For a brief moment, Tabitha felt kindred to the lifeless machine.  Both had completed their cycles (animate inanimate), both were pale and noiseless.  Tabitha grasped the cold metal groove at the side of the dryer’s door and pulled with all of her timid might (pushing and pulling, like when she birthed her daughter) until it came to rest, tilting to the left, a taunting maw.  She stood on tiptoe and gazed over into the abyss of the dryer’s belly.  The heat of the clothes pushed back on her and she almost toppled backwards, through the wall behind her.  Regaining composure, she peered into the dark hole again and gasped with pleasure.  Such a delightful colors (like the seasons, remember those?)!  The laundry was mingled and tangled, like drunken party guests when the lights go out.  She reached delicately into the maw, straining to reach the article she had been searching for.  She plucked it from its erotic pose, wrapped around the cuff of faded jeans, and brought it close to her face.  Deep purple and teal stripes painted its straight torso and five individual toes poked boldly out from the bottom of the sock (her daughter had such lovely toes).  Tabitha rubbed the sock lovingly on her cheek, letting out a sliver of a weep, and was suddenly overcome with

 

Faces, beautiful faces.  Her daughter’s brilliant blue eyes shined at her through the blinding white.  She was laughing, surrounded by shiny wrapping paper, a fleck of rogue birthday cake stuck to the crease of her mouth.  She dangled the socks in front of her face, giggling.

 

“I can’t believe you remembered these, mom!  We saw them at the mall, like, three months ago.  Dad, I swear, she told me I owned more toe socks than any normal person should and swore up and down she wouldn’t be contributing to my addiction.”

 

Tabitha’s husband laughed and winked at her.  His eyebrows, graying and soft, arched upwards, as they always did when he laughed.

 

Tabitha pulled the sock reluctantly from her cheek, a sense of urgency creeping into her belly.  She took a rusted safety pin from her pocket and pinned the sock to her shirt.  The sudden rush of recovering a coveted memory had brought shiny opaque tears to her eyes.  She turned then, and scurried through the wall, back to the nothingness and the blinding white, socks flapping against her body, held securely by pins.

 

 

Sasha clunked heavily down the stairs, laundry basket resting on her left hip.  She shuffled sleepily to the dryer, who’s buzzing had interrupted a lovely nap.  She unceremoniously heaved the dried clothes into the basket and turned back to the stairs.  As she turned she caught a brief but intensely strong aroma.  She stopped abruptly, grasping tightly to the basket, sadness and joy filtering through her heart.  A moment passed.  And another.  Finally, she resumed her slow walk to the stairs, shaking her head softly.  She could have sworn, although the moment had passed and was quickly sliding from her, that she had smelled her mother’s perfume, caught on a breeze in the windowless basement. 

 

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[Rachel]

oooh.....Drama.