Apron Memories

It was mealtime again, and although I was hungry I wondered if I wanted to bother to cook something.  As I debated with myself, I absently reached into my kitchen closet for an apron.  I seldom wore them these days…too much bother, I guess.  As I groped through the maze of aprons, I was surprised at how many had accumulated over the years.  I pulled one of the many off the hook in the closet and was suddenly overcome with nostalgia.  I decided right then that dinner would have to wait while I spent time with my apron memories.
    The first apron I held up brought a shiver of delight.  It was large with faded pink and blue flowers, still bearing the traces of flour and chocolate chips.  My grandchildren loved that apron when they came to visit. They sensed when I wore it they would be happy recipients of cookies or cakes, and they had fun searching through the big pockets for any additional goodies I might have for them.
    I laid that memory carefully over a chair and began once again to shuffle through the closet.  I touched lace and ruffles and knew I had located my delicate, hand-sewn party apron.  It had been a conversation piece whenever I served tea and cakes on important occasions.
    As I reached for it, another apron fell to the floor and I was quickly touched with bittersweet memories.  Picking it up, tears filled my eyes and spilled over onto the delicate lavender silk.  I held it gently for a moment as if to keep the memory alive a little longer.  It was the apron I used when I prepared the special dishes for my youngest daughter’s wedding shower.  I haven’t used it since that time because I want to remember her happiness, and remember the joy she brought to us all before she was so suddenly taken from us.  I folded it lovingly, determined to find it a better memory place.
    I continued my apron discovery day and tugged at the apron in the back of my closet.  My professional apron had gotten jammed in tightly behind all my more current aprons.  I hadn’t seen it for years, and since I retired I had completely forgotten about it.  During my working years, that apron had been a life saver as I entertained with more serious, gourmet cooking.  It was my dependable apron, useful and efficient.
    But, where was my special apron?  The one I used during those precious years of rearing my three children…the one used to dry tears and give wrap-around hugs.  Ah, there it was, slightly stained, pocket ripped on the corner from jamming some toy in it as I tried to prepare a dinner.  One of the ties was completely gone, torn off when my son insisted on swinging from it.  I never did replace it.  Maybe I was too busy, but I think it was more that I wanted to cherish the memory of his happy face.
    Now all those times are gone.  My oldest daughter has aprons of her own, and my kitchen days now require only a wisp of an apron.  I don’t do the cooking and baking that I once did, and my aprons are hanging unused in my kitchen memory closet just waiting for me to come spend time with them.  And that’s what I did today.  Each one opened a wonderful treasure of memories.