The Magic Sock Drawer

Did I ever tell you about my magic sock drawer? No? Well! Let’s not let another minute go to waste! You need to know about my magic sock drawer!

It all started one day when a beautiful woman with a disarming smile asked if she could clean my house. I am not kidding.

I had invited her to lunch, or coffee, or something. As anyone would do when company is coming, I had straightened the books on the shelf and sharpened all the pencils lying around the piano. I left my sketchbook open to my latest sketch and made sure the paintings were all hanging level. I emptied the kitchen trash can, even though it wasn’t technically full, and I vacuumed the carpets. Then I straightened the books next to the piano and dusted the computer. After straightening the books on the hall counter I got out some coffee cups and spoons and got the coffee pot ready to brew.

I shoved the laundry basket into the laundry room, letting it skid to a stop between the washer and the ironing board and slammed shut the door to that room.

Finally, straightening the books on the bedside table I was ready for company! This was going to be fun!

As I welcomed her into my home I could sense an aura of wonder about her as she took in the vision of the recently tidied place. I could tell she was impressed! She didn’t SAY she was impressed, but she couldn’t hide that from me. I could see it in those beautiful eyes.

Later, as our visit concluded, she asked what time I left for work in the morning. About 7:30 I said. That gave me plenty of time to park and get to my desk.

Could she bring me a lunch, she asked? She could pack a lunch and bring it by before I left. I was astonished, of course, but I agreed since my prospects were otherwise unremarkable. I had run out of cold pizza.
True to her promise she was there the next morning with a packed lunch and a fruit smoothie. As I hurried for the door with my amazing goodies, she lingered a moment and asked if she could lock the door on her way out because she wanted to clean up the coffee pot before she left. Sure, I said. Just don’t lock yourself out.

What a lunch that was! A splendid sandwich and fresh fruit, a couple of cookies and a granola bar! I made sure I could reimburse her expense for the food, because a lunch like that had to be pretty pricey. Delicious! Even my co-workers noticed.

When I got home that evening I saw the door to the laundry room open. That worried me. I remembered closing that door the evening before, so that some of the less desirable views in the house could be avoided. As I peered in I saw the space where the laundry basket had slid to a stop was not just vacant but mopped clean. In fact, all the floors were mopped clean.

In my bedroom I found the laundry all neatly folded and stacked on my bed. Except for my socks. I looked at the stack for a moment, trying to remember the last time my tee shirts had been folded. When I bought them, I decided. They come folded in the package. Yeah, that was it. Folded when I bought them.

The dishes were all rinsed and loaded in the dishwasher. I usually waited until the sink was full before I washed, and that might take a few days, especially if there was a paper plate event along the way. I could go two weeks with the coffee cups I had on the shelf, but the spoons would run out sooner than that.

It was almost time for a music student, so I put my amazement aside and prepared to teach. I couldn’t ever shake the sense of wonder, though.

The next morning, as I was dressing for work, I found the missing socks. They were neatly arranged in the top drawer of my dresser. They were all turned right side out, paired properly, and folded together, lined up like little acrylic soldiers side by side.

I heard a knock at the door, and had to hurry to make myself decent as I rushed to open my door to the beauty who had brought another lunch and another smoothie.

As I stammered a flimsy thanks for the lunch the previous day, she asked if she could bring some cleaning supplies and work on my house while I was away. And maybe tomorrow, too, it might take a couple of days.

I dug around for a spare house key and told her this was unnecessary, I appreciated the thought, but … 

You’re going to be late, she said, taking the key and handing me the lunch.

It started there and then. Until the day she died my socks would just magically appear in my drawer, paired, folded, arranged. They would disappear from the floor beside my bed and return to that dresser, and I never really knew how. I had some suspicions, of course, as anyone might. But I never once asked her to do any of that. Ever.

It wasn’t many weeks before I would come home to find a hot meal on my table and a satisfying smile beneath those beautiful eyes. The aroma of the house transformed, the weeds disappeared from the front flower beds, my shirts began to carry a crisp edge and the socks continued their magic.

Every morning she would come to get me off to work, every evening she would greet me home again. She loved me back to life and I married her. I’d have been a fool to do otherwise.

She is gone now, and the magic of the sock drawer is gone with her. The love continues, though, together with faith and hope. 

And I think about that love when I fold my socks.