Today I folded laundry and there were no unmatched socks! I do not think I can remember this ever happening to me before. I don't know what other people do, but I have a special bag that I keep, where I put unmatched socks, and then I hide it in my closet, because I don't want to have to look at so many unmatched socks. And because I don't want anyone to know how many there really are. It is a state secret.

Every once in a while, I go through the bag of unmatched socks and throw them away. This is painful. It is admitting the truth: that I will never find the mates to those socks. It is not their fault. It is mine. I did not look under the couch often enough, of search through the leaves in the backyard. I did not stand at the door when children came home, and checked their feet to see if they had both socks on them.

You would think that the best day ever is the day of unmatched socks, but it is not true. It is a better day when there is an unmatched sock on my bed, where I fold my clothes, and I pick it up to take it to the bag, then find the courage to look inside the bag--and find the mate to the unmatched sock. This happens very rarely. More often, what I realize when I stare at the unmatched sock in the bag, is that this is the mate to a sock that I threw away some months ago, given up on too soon.

But still, it stays in the bag. Maybe someday the other sock will come back to me. I have to give it a chance.