Warm socks feel like home. They especially feel like home when they are worn under big rubber shoes. The combination shields my feet from the wetness of the sporadic “ber” rains. They save me from all feeling of squishy-ishy discomfort. They spare me from having to ride buses and trains with wet and freezing cold lower appendages.
Warm socks feel like home. Wearing them to sleep during these chilly “ber” nights sends me back to my room in La Trinidad. There I have a huge collection of long woolly (and well worn) socks which have always been useful when the cold months rolled around.
When I wear them and wiggle my toes under my Za’ba blankets, I feel like I’m not in Malaysia. I feel like my Mom would come knocking on my door any second, forcing me to get up.
Warm socks feel like home. But more like Home is my Resting Place who constantly shields me from every storm, who tells me when I’m all squishy and uncomfy that “Everything will turn out fine and dandy.”
More like Home is the Warm Embrace that covers me from head to toe, thawing away the coldness of my heart and bringing me back to the very Place where I belong.
Back to Him. Because He is my very Home.
When all is said and done, after nature and the whole work and acad load have all poured down, after the nights’ and the situations’ coldness have all passed, we would always find ourselves looking for… yearning… wanting to go back to that Home.
Well. He is our Home.
Written while I was wriggling my toes inside warm comfy socks. While waiting somewhere out there. :)