Missing socks seemed like no big deal — until five pairs vanished. As a stressed single dad, I finally set up an old nanny cam to figure out what was happening.
The footage stunned me: my son Dylan was sneaking into the laundry room at dawn, taking one sock from each pair and stuffing them into his backpack. I followed him one morning and watched him walk to a rundown house on Oak Street.
Inside was an elderly man in a wheelchair named Frank, wrapped in a thin blanket. Dylan handed him the socks and said, “I brought more. The blue ones have anchors since you were in the Navy.”
Frank lifted his blanket to show he had one leg. “Your boy’s been keeping my foot warm — and keeping me company,” he said gently.
The next day, Dylan and I bought a mountain of fun socks. Now we visit Frank often. I help with things around the house, Dylan brings stories, and Frank shares memories — proving kindness can show up in the smallest, strangest ways.
