A woman named Michelle gave me a few sets of socks. Each set came with a couple pairs of socks. Each set was different.
One was a set of low-rise white socks.
The other was a set of longer, black, dress socks, each pair with slightly different designs on them.
She gave them to me because I wear low-rise black socks with everything: my tennis shoes, Chuck’s, black or brown dress shoes, whatever.
It’s been almost eight years since I paired down to the one type of sock. It makes it easier to match them, I don’t have to worry about choosing the best for each outfit, none of that. The black, athletic socks pretty much work with everything, or are just off enough that it works for me.
When Michelle gave me the variety pack, I had mixed feelings. My first reaction was gratitude, like, “Thank you so much for thinking of me and getting these for me – I don’t remember the last time someone outside my family got me a random gift.
My second reaction, though, was like, “Wait a sec. I purposely chose to pair down to one type of socks. Now I’m going to be obligated to wear the variety pack.”
I talked about this with a few friends too. It’s not just about socks. It’s a conversation that extends to any number of situations where someone gives you something that you wouldn’t have chosen yourself. How do we handle that?
I chose to wear the socks Michelle gave me. She saw me wear them a few weeks back.
And then yesterday, I got an email that Michelle died.
