i have a hole in my sock

I live about six miles away from my baby sister and about three miles from my younger sister who is just year older than the baby.

My mom (who everyone calls “mumma”) lives about 25 miles from our area and she comes over to our side of town just about every weekend. Is it to come see Julian?… no. It’s to see the girls.

Do I feel left out? Not really. ok, maybe a little.

Although my siblings say I’m mumma’s favorite, I’ve always been at the more distant end of her watchful eye. This has been my m.o. since I was about seven. My mom leaned on me as the oldest to help out with my two brothers and sisters when my dad left us. I can remember walking to the grocery store that was about a quarter mile or so from the apartments we lived in by myself to pick up bread, milk, eggs. I was in charge when we were alone as mom fought her way through traffic to get home. And I was the navigator, riding shotgun, when we made the 10 hour trek (10 hours because of five kids needing pee breaks, snack breaks, “I’m gonna stop this car right now” breaks) to the Rio Grande Valley to see my aunts and uncles in Edinburg, Tex. Go Bobcats!

So I guess from that sort of upbringing I’ve had a bit of an independent streak in me. Or at least I’ve never had the idea pop into my head that something can’t be done on my own.

There is something however, that I haven’t done on my own… i think, ever. I mean, I can’t remember a time when I did this for myself. Sad and rather pathetic when you think about it. When I was in college I would get care packages from mom and in the box would periodically be underwear and socks. My grandmother would send for Christmas underwear and socks. When I was in the military, they issued me underwear and socks. And this weekend mumma came over, out of the blue with a package of socks in her hand.

Mumma is getting on up in age. I’ve only recently (within the past few years) really let the thought sink in that she won’t be with me always. I mean, I’ve certainly given thought to that with me and my daughter but… as for me… well, it’s mumma! She’ll always be there.

[Deist wiggles his toes and notices a hole forming in his sock and thinks, “Glad mumma brought over that new package.” Takes a sip of sweet tea and wipes his eye.]

4 responses to “i have a hole in my sock

  1. so you’ve never… bought socks?

    There’s a whole world just opening up for you then. red socks, blue socks, glove socks with individual toes in them.

    If you wanna see some crazy socks, check out Mr. Hand’s blog, couple entries down…but be careful. His vivid tootsies might corrupt such an impressionable foot innocent.

  2. oh Amuirin… this blogging thing and the people I’ve met, particularly Mr. Hand (how do i track back to let him know I’ve talked a little smack about him) have corrupted my innocence. I’ve resorted to posting semi nude pics of myself. Over at Bibliomom’s place he drew a line in the sand about posting pics of feet so I had to oblige. Here was my contribution to the fray. Not nearly as sexy as Hand’s contribution. 🙂

  3. The more feet the better in my opinion.

    I hate holy socks! Holy socks are an abomination. Blasphemy in my book!

  4. Better holy socks than holy scivvies, right. 😀

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