Without the noise of the television I reject lately for my own search of thoughts, words, digging deep into past flashes of experiences, and the people who messaged the meanings then, I silently fold socks in the hours of just waking.Three baskets of clothes finally washed and dried after 10pm last night wait until before daybreak for their proper folds.
All the sportswear shirts I fold and stack one on top of the other, similar to the way store clerks make displays look uniform, somewhat neat – inviting a buyer to stop and think about a purchase. Then the pants, smoothing the material, making the cuffs aligned and even, and when I find a sock, I just pile them together until all the other clothes are finished, stacked, and folded.
Picking out matching socks is usually easy, except for the faded, worn ones from a convenience package of maybe four pair or more. You spot colors, styles, patterns, marks, writing or brand, degree of use, and other elements to make an adequate match if not the exact one every time.
Once almost finished, I spot a sock with writing – a saying my mother used to always use as an admonition – No Nonsense. I wonder what she would say today with a world covered in grime, crime, alternative facts, and deliberate malice towards many if not all…all under a relabeling of “freedom”…
My slow smile breaks as I envision her presence then, remember her principle, and that expression very often suggesting when actions were on the verge of crossing a line. It was her way of giving advanced warning – a sign. And at this moment on a silent morning in July 2025, the meaning of messages through signs seems so transparent, so clean a wash waiting to be ordered, folded, presented. And then the song from the past, Signs – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oeT5otk2R1g
Where there’s gratitude, like Signs, we become miraculously able to perceive them through the veils of our everyday lives…as they remain forever present.