Easter Stockings
Easter morning was unusual. As I stirred from a deep sleep, I realized my right foot was in the nude.
My sock had removed itself inexplicably during the night. Throughout an entire 40-pounds-less life, I do not recall another nocturnal sock absconder.
I was amazed, frankly. I wiggled my left foot. It nestled warm and snuggy in tubular white cotton.
But that right foot was naked. I moved it out from under the bedcovers to be certain, waving toes six-through-10 high above a cat.
"Yep, naked," I mumbled.
"What?" Donna whispered softly.
"It's odd," I said. "I had one sock fall off in the night."
"Me, too," said Donna, raising her pink show-and-tell toes, nicely arranged on the left foot!
We were a perfect pair.
