The Purple Socks

As I told my neighbor and fellow blogger just this afternoon, I feel we all have at least one"why" tucked away, somewhere in our subconscious. I have many, but the one that comes to my mind tonight is" Why do I feel compelled to save everything. A pair of purple socks is my subject tonight. I have worn this pair of purple socks off and on for about a year now. I know it's been a year, because my Mother passed away a year ago March 12, 2013, and I inherited many of her colorful socks. I wanted them simply because they epitomise "Mom" herself. She loved color and she wore and used it incessantly. In any form possible. If not in her clothing, then she would use colored paint. She painted the sidewalks and the stepping stones, every color in the rainbow. Thus her nickname,The Colorful Cajun. At least, that's the name the Pastor of her church used when referring to Mom. To those who knew her much better,it was "The Ragin' Cajun, which she was equally proud of. 

Tonight, when  I took my purple socks off, I decided it was time to stop wearing them. There was a hole in each heel, which didn't show when I'd wear them, so I continued to do so. Tonight is the night. I must stop wearing them. I took the scissors and cut them down the middle and across the toe, making a square flat piece out of each one.The color was so pretty, and then there was Mom's memory attached to them. How could I possibly throw them away. Well, I didn't. I took them to the serger and hemmed the little square pieces of sock material on all of the raw edges. I WILL find some way to use these pretty little purple square pieces of fabric. Thus, my questions. Why do I do this? Why do I feel so attached to inanimate things? Is it a sickness, or possibly a curse? I suppose I could pay an exorbitant amount to some kind of counselor or head doctor to explain it to me, but knowing me, I'll continue on, asking myself "Why".