We had been together for 6 years. No matter how hard it was, nothing could separate us. We would hang onto each other with all our might and never let go. Until the day she did.
Our story began the day we were sewn, I came tumbling out of the machine straight onto a mirror. Except not quite, more like a mirror image. My twin sock and I met for the first time on a rainy, stormy day. Streaks of lightening arched across the sky and we were both terrified! But I wouldn’t show it. I put a leg, ok my one and only leg around my sister and told her not to cry.
From that day onward we were besties.
No matter how ferocious the washing machine was, we held on tight and unlike most other socks we never, ever lost each other. I watched other, more careless socks loose their partners and end up on their own, relegated to the back of a drawer, the bottom of a cupboard, the corner of a shelf in shame. Leftie and I would look at each other and promise that we would never be like that. Danny was a boisterous boy I must admit. Sometimes I was sure I wouldn’t make it to the end of the day without a hole and when the baby chewed on us – so embarrassing, to be covered in saliva- yuck. Some days Danny wore us to school, that was exciting, I loved learning new things and of course we had great fun chatting to other socks during circle time. Some days Danny wore us to football, that was.. interesting. Leftie loved it. “It’s like a roller coaster!” And if we hit a goal, she would go on and on about it. We both hated washing day, though it felt good to be clean. On the whole we were mostly happy.
Until ….
There was shouting and yelling outside the drawer but in a family of boys that was nothing unusual. Suddenly the drawer was yanked open and a little hand grabbed Leftie and shut the drawer.
I banged, I pushed, I shouted but it was no use.
Curling up in the corner of the drawer I ignored all the other socks’ words of comfort and began to cry.
Then, a while later there was more exited exclamations outside and once again the drawer was yanked open and this time Danny’s hand grasped me and I saw Leftie on the table. But what was this? She was covered in purpley goo and rust!
“Lefty! What in the name of Sock is going on here?!”
“Oh Righty,” she giggled, “its fine, I hope you weren’t worried.”
“Me? Nah, I was fine, totally cool with it. Just tell me what is going on??”
She giggled again, “Oh isn’t it simply wonderful?” Then she sighed dreamily.
“Huh??” said I, completely confused.
“Look over there. They’re polishing candlesticks!”
“Ah!” Understanding dawned and I bounced up and down, “They’re polishing the candlesticks, it must be-”
“Shabbat UK!”
And so we both joined in the fun. Later on the house filled with the incredible smell of freshly baked challah and Leftie and I watched from the wash basket as all the boys put on suits and went downstairs. That’s one thing about being a sock. Its great fun and you can even help make Shabbat. What did you do this week for Shabbat?

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