My Grandmother's Lonely Sock
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When we were growing up, our grandmother would give us only one thing for Christmas each year: socks. We always got plain, white socks from her. She said it was to keep our feet warm. I never liked it very much. It sort of annoyed me. Mom said that she couldn’t afford much after Grandpa died. It didn’t help me to feel better about it, but it explained a lot.
We used to stay overnight at her house a lot. Mom worked full time and Dad went away on business a lot. We’d have to wear our socks for her, to make her happy, Mom said. We would get there and smile and tell her how much we loved them, just to see her smile.
Once, when we went to her house, I lost one of the socks. I had to act disappointed and tell her. She smiled sympathetically, patted my shoulder and told me not to worry; she’d get me another pair. I took the one lonely sock home and put it in the laundry pile.
When Mom was doing the laundry the next day, my dog took the sock out of the pile. He chewed on it for a while. Mom found it the next day all stretched out and covered in dog slobber and dirt. She washed it and gave it to me. I asked what I would do with it. She told me to keep it.
I kept the sock for a while. Grandma died a few weeks ago, and when we went to the funeral, I took the sock with me. When everyone else had said goodbye, I stayed behind. I explained to her what had happened to the sock, and I told her I wanted her to have it as a gift. I left it on her grave and went to catch up with my family.
When we got home after celebrating her life, I was exhausted. I took off my shoes, put on clean pajamas and went upstairs to go to bed. When I got there, I found the exact same sock lying on my bed. It was then that I knew that Grandma loved being able to give us something for Christmas, even if it was only socks. I grew to appreciate it. As a grandmother myself now, I give my grandchildren socks and tell them the story of my grandmother and the lonely sock that I still have to this day.
We used to stay overnight at her house a lot. Mom worked full time and Dad went away on business a lot. We’d have to wear our socks for her, to make her happy, Mom said. We would get there and smile and tell her how much we loved them, just to see her smile.
Once, when we went to her house, I lost one of the socks. I had to act disappointed and tell her. She smiled sympathetically, patted my shoulder and told me not to worry; she’d get me another pair. I took the one lonely sock home and put it in the laundry pile.
When Mom was doing the laundry the next day, my dog took the sock out of the pile. He chewed on it for a while. Mom found it the next day all stretched out and covered in dog slobber and dirt. She washed it and gave it to me. I asked what I would do with it. She told me to keep it.
I kept the sock for a while. Grandma died a few weeks ago, and when we went to the funeral, I took the sock with me. When everyone else had said goodbye, I stayed behind. I explained to her what had happened to the sock, and I told her I wanted her to have it as a gift. I left it on her grave and went to catch up with my family.
When we got home after celebrating her life, I was exhausted. I took off my shoes, put on clean pajamas and went upstairs to go to bed. When I got there, I found the exact same sock lying on my bed. It was then that I knew that Grandma loved being able to give us something for Christmas, even if it was only socks. I grew to appreciate it. As a grandmother myself now, I give my grandchildren socks and tell them the story of my grandmother and the lonely sock that I still have to this day.