Black Socks

The bright sunlight screeched through the windows of our hotel room in streaks. I heard footsteps to my right. I turned to look into the room, squinting to adjust my eyes.

He came walking out of the bathroom, toward the suitcase on the bed. He’s middle-aged and bald, except for the thick coating of gray hairs that cover his chest, arms, and legs. OK, and his back, too.

He was dressed in black socks, blue briefs and a Cleveland Indians ball cap. That was all. He stopped by the suitcase on the bed to pull out his clothes and looked up at me. A silly smile spread across his face as he caught me staring while he pulled his clothes from the luggage. He began to put his pants on, one leg at a time.

I felt my chest swell with love. I looked down at his black socks. I melted

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9 responses to “Black Socks

  1. That’s really sweet, you two are great together.

  2. If it had been white tube socks, I would have insisted you divorce him post haste.

    He got lucky THIS time!

  3. Ahhhhhhhhh!

    Very nicely written. It makes a really great read.

  4. Thanks, guys. I still get warm fuzzies from this memory.

  5. Nice. Wish my wife was as forgiving,

  6. You know what would make this post perfect? A picture…

  7. Middle Man ~ There’s nothing to forgive! You just gotta know how to look endearing while still being bald and paunchy.

    tigereye ~ Then every woman in the world would want my bald, hairy-backed, paunchy man in the briefs and black socks. I’m not willing to share!

  8. Hi Mom!

    (Sorry, I’m headachy and a little down. I have nothing intelligent to say.)

  9. I remember this one… one of my all time favourites 🙂

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