Odd socks

I always thought I might be an odd sock gal, one in green and the other pink… Feet of a different colour that walked a different route.

Except lately all my socks have matched… My sock draw is a colourful collection of fuzzy lovelies and silky stockings, possibly with one fishnet pushed to the back and ignored.

I thought that my life would need odd socks. That uncertainty of putting them on and trying to see where the journey would take me.

You see I lived a quiet life with my dog, my parents and a room big enough to do my art and writing. That was it.. My odd socks defined the fact I was not what I seemed. I was not ordinary. I was bigger than my circumstance.

Then I met R and moved to Swansea and suddenly life was colourful and full of new things. Strangely my sock draw became quieter as I lived more. The more people I loved the duller my socks. The other day I looked in my sock drawer and all I could see was black, white and grey. At the back, hiding, was a pink pair but other than that they were all neutral colours.

The other thing was that the drawer has not become a pick and mix but instead a row of neatly packed socks, each attached to its twin.

I no longer wear odd socks. I am living the life I want and there is no need to set me feet on a colourful journey. My feet are clothed in black but they stand on a wonderfully colourful road.