Softboy

My grandma has been calling me every Sunday since I moved out, usually to ask what I’m eating and whether my curtains are up yet. They are not. A few weeks ago she called while I was in the laundromat. It was loud and I was trying to get a fitted sheet into a dryer, so I probably sounded a bit off. She asked if I was okay and I said yes, just tired. On Wednesday a package arrived with three pairs of socks, a bag of those little wrapped mints she keeps by her sofa, and a note that said, “For laundry day.” I called to thank her and she said, “You sounded like you needed clean socks.” I hadn’t mentioned socks at all, but she was right. Mine had all gone in the wash and I’d worn sandals there in the rain.