A short prose, what went missing, weren’t just those socks, but also, her own youthfulness too, translated…
This is not the first time, she’d started suspecting, that her washing machine consumed her socks.
She’d fished out the washed socks from the washer, spread them all out, and found, that there is, yet another sock that’s, gone missing, this time, it’s, her daughter’s.
it just goes ’round, and ’round, and ’round, NOT my photo…
Her place wasn’t big at all, but, it’s, as vast as the oceans. The dresser drawer in the bedroom was like an island, with, a group of single socks, they all hugged onto each other, to keep one another warm.
She doesn’t believe it one bit, stuck her head into the washer, opened up her eyes wide, and, searched. The washer compartment was made of steel, and, all of a sudden, all those small holes all opened up wide, sucked her in.
She’d wanted to head in, to see what exactly was, going on in there, so, she’d not, panicked one bit. As she was, searching on, the water, flooded up all of a sudden, and, she’d become, stuck, inside the whirlpools of the washer now.
The automatic washer had, washed her from head to toe once, spun her dry. She’d become, weakened, like after an entire day’s worth of household chores. She’d, climbed back out, and, still never found, any of the missing socks, just bumped into the clusters, wrinkled, washed up youth.
On this, the washer that’s, accompanied her for over a decade, just stood silently by, watched, but, never responded.
This, is a very philosophical piece, with a LOT of symbolism, the washer probably symbolized the woman’s life, and, the socks that had gone “missing” from the wash became the things she’d lost through the years, and, she went into the washer to search for it, and yet, she’d found nothing, but this, fatigue, this washed up self that is what she is now.
Life, the Obstacle Course 