Your Aprons
Big aprons. Little aprons. Floral print aprons. Striped canvas aprons. Our aprons are as varied as we are.
And the stories behind them are even more numerous than the aprons themselves!
Memories
Kiss the Cook
I grew up looking at the pictures of my parents in their first little home (a trailer decked out in all those 70’s colors), my daddy wearing the hat as he prepared their first meal in their new home (an omelet—what else? my dad has always been the breakfast chef, especially on Sunday mornings), and them sneaking a kiss behind the “Kiss the Cook” washcloth.
Grandma’s Aprons
There is a row of hooks behind the door in my grandmother’s walk-in pantry. Each hook holds a hanger upon which is carefully hung an apron. The pantry is in a newly remodeled section of the house, but the aprons speak of vintage kitchens in older homes of previous generations. Oh the stories they could tell!
that September day
I have not forgotten. But my children weren’t even there to remember.
I realized the person on the radio was right—to my children, the stories of 9-11 will be like the stories of Pearl Harbor were to me, to my parents.
in real life
For the last issue of New Attitude Magazine, I convinced my parents to let me put my name in the pen pal ads. I wanted some “real” pen pals—”real” as in girls I’d never met before. It was such a thrill getting those first letters in the mail box. Reading the hearts of those dear…
a few words to my former self…
I wish I could go back and tell my 16-year-old self a few things (but would I have understood?).
I would remind myself not to judge when I don’t know every detail…
mud on memory lane
This month at YLCF we’re walking down memory lane and re-posting some articles from the print YLCF Journals. It’s been quite the walk down memory lane. And it’s been fun, even if it has give me ample opportunity to laugh at my former self when I find a bit of “mud on memory lane” like…
one more kiss
Dearest, Every year about this time, it all comes flooding back to me. The reality of how close I came to the loss hits me full force. The loss of you…my then-newlywed husband, my best friend, the father of our then-future children (whom I already knew would have reddish blond curls!). You laugh when I…
backwards
Backwards sixteen years. My almost-twelve-year-old world had changed overnight: I had a brand new baby sister. Positively adorable, positively perfect. A real live baby doll to dress and photograph. When she was little, I helped with a lot of the cooking and cleaning—I helped be a mommy. And I told that little person I’d expect…
my cousin Moo and me
She was born 9 and a half months after I was. Her dad was my mom’s older and only sibling. We were cousins. But far from two peas in a pod. She was mistaken for an Indian papoose, I looked like Anne Shirley. She was quiet, I was talkative. But we both liked cats. And…
9/11/2001
Dearest, As with so many, many things in my life, my memories of September 11, 2001, are all intertwined with memories of you. My dad, brother Will, and I had gotten up early that morning. We were driving here to help your family with building your parents’ home. The Country radio station was on (it…
Hallmark Cards & Love Letters
Dearest Pen Pal, The lady who owns our local Hallmark teases you because she doesn’t see you as much now that we are married. But I tell her it’s because I get to see you now that we are married. Our communication isn’t limited to the pen and ink you filled each blank space of…
The End.
The End.