For the Love of Socks

When I was younger, my grandma started a tradition of getting me holiday themed socks for every occasion. I had every major holiday, and then some extra with butterflies or cats on them for good measure. I wore them with pride.

Of course, as I got older theme socks weren't really the "cool" things to be wearing. I pushed them all to the corner of my drawer and forgot about them. In college, I would occasionally wear some Christmas socks in July because I hadn't done my laundry, but other than that I wouldn't be caught dead in them.

Now I am twenty-eight years old, and have a son of my own. But to Grandma, I am still her baby girl. Last night the family went out to dinner for a birthday. I sat down at my place and there was a puffy envelope sitting on my plate. It was a pair of black socks with snowmen on them, and "Let it Snow" printed in neon blue around the top. My dad actually asked me if they were for Peanut. They are ugly, and wouldn't go with anything save one of those reindeer sweaters or something.

I got up from the table and gave Grandma a kiss. She told me how she had searched for the socks and found just the right ones. I suddenly had a vivid picture of her in the store, pouring over socks and trying to find the perfect pair. All for me.

The next holiday is New Year's, and I'm sure I'll get a snazzy sparkly pair. And I will love them, because it means that my Grandma is thinking of me. If anyone asks me if I am loved, I will tell them yes...

and direct them to my sock drawer.