You may recall my struggles with these socks, which I called Suitcase Socks, with the promise of an explanation later. They were made for a dear friend who on was the list for a liver transplant, and intended to go into his take-to-the-hospital suitcase. Designed to be soft, warm, stretchy, to keep feet warm in a chilly and stressful place and time — hospitals are always a little chilly, I find — and then be good for padding about during a long recovery period. Dear Friend (hereafter known as DF — it’s not for me to disclose his medical information along with his name) came up to visit along with his wife (also Dear), arriving yesterday morning.
After a day of visiting, we all settled in to sleep, and were awakened around midnight by a call: A liver was available, and if he could be at his transplant center by noon it was his. Calls to airlines, a strategic meal and hydration schedule, a power nap until 3:30am, then a swift ride to the airport got them on the first flight out of Seattle. Somewhere before the eggs and English muffin, I remembered the socks, and presented them for duty. DF was amazed that there were no seams at the toes, thanks to Judy’s Magic Cast-On, and appreciated the subtle nod to the Aubrey-Maturin books we both love, in that the cables on the sides of the socks are both cable and hawser-laid. And into the suitcase they went.
We returned from the airport in the pearly dawn, and I saw that the indoor cyclamen from Thanksgiving had popped open the first flowers from its reblooming.
A new beginning, a new day, thanks to the simple act by another man and his family designating him an organ donor. I hope you’ll consider taking that step, too.