SOCK IT TO ME

It is officially sock weather.

The sun rose low, red and glowing. Casting an eerie glow on the water, it caught my eye while making coffee early this morning, and I realized I was cold.

I very rarely wear shoes in the summer, and the most I'll allow on my feet is a Dr. Scholl's sandal. Maybe it's a reflection of my stance against the cold, having feet held hostage all winter with thick heavy socks and cumbersome boots. Even spring boasts the need for a shoe with heel and panty hose. But summer is the season for bare feet and bare legs, baring souls and open hearts.

Autumn is in the air and it is chilly when I first put my feet on the floor. No need for the furnace as of yet, but I can feel it will be soon. I draw close my bathrobe, a homemade Christmas gift to me. The first year in the family, courtesy of my soon to be sister in law, she smiled and said “For those early mornings on the lake.” It quickly became my favorite piece of clothing, and it is well worn and much loved.

The floors are carpeted, although threadbare in places, used from breaking in puppies and kitties.

“That's okay” says my beloved. “We'll show the bare wood next year when everybody” is finished.

I smile because I know that it is part of the cycle of our life together. Slowly weeding out the old I brought with me and working around what was here upon my arrival. As time goes by, we'll find a midpoint and agree on what can be saved, what needs to be put away.

It is okay. I am content to wear socks and slippers just a while longer before the need to encase my feet in rubber soled boots once again.

Our hearts are warm.