Good writing, with a strong point and with life oozing out.


March 16, 2008

I found your socks
in a dark corner of the car trunk
not recognizing them at first,
my hands reflexively shoved them into a bag
to take into the house
to unconsciously take out
and add to a pile of laundry

your mother saw them
she asked, “where did you find Will’s socks?”
I covered my ignorance,
not missing a beat:
“In the trunk…”
we both moved on
me, mindlessly to the next thing
her, with that slightly sad look

I didn’t feel anything
until I took them out of the dryer
hands moving to sort and fold
but when the mate was matched
my hands stopped
as I beheld
two tiny sky blue socks in one palm

hands frozen, eyes full
your socks are so small
and I miss you so much
I’m weeping
for all of the
pain your life would have meant
all of the
joy that you would have brought
all of the
love that you would have felt

I looked around the room
for a place to put them
but there isn’t one:
a pile for me,
one for your mom,
one for your sister
but what am I supposed to do
with your socks?
I wish I had a pocket
where I could keep them

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4 Responses to “Missing”

  1. maria says:

    Thank you. Just… thank you.

  2. Lisa says:

    Beautiful, Mike. I’m crying with you.

  3. pamela says:

    I was doing my usual catch up w/ your blog while chatting with Neva last week…I was relaying Ella’s pottying adventures and we were laughing. Then I tried reading this out loud to her and we both lost it.
    I can’t understand it to the same depth, I’m sure, but my mind has been replaying memories since last Sunday when I called.
    Love you all.
    Thanks for writing…it helps me, too.

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