PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I remember one time I hand-painted an apron for my grandmother in kindergarten. I remember my little sister painted one for grandmother´s day last year. And I have never seen my grandma wear either. She always ends up with her favorite, a red, ugly, stained apron. I cannot remember when was the first time I saw her wearing it, but I can assure there will not be a last.  She wears it on Sunday mornings to cook lunch for the whole family. She even wears it when she is done with the cooking. Last Christmas she forgot to take it off for the pictures. Now that I realize, she really loves that apron.  Sometimes I help her out in the kitchen, but only sometimes, she adores to be in charge. But when I get the chance to get my clumsy hands in the soup before it is done, or in the cake batter before the oven, she never lends me her red apron. I get to use the old, hand-painted one from when I was six years old. It even has my little hands in the pockets. I truly believe she has never washed that thing.  That apron holds stains from every meal she has ever cooked. The redness of it has vanished with time, calling it a red apron barely describes that thing. If someone or something could completely clean that apron, I would turn myself into a religious person. I have never asked my grandmother how she got it, but by knowing her, she may have got it in a flea market. But once she likes something that fits her, she never lets it go. My grandmother is definitely not the greatest cook, but she knows her ways. She studied by memory a few recipes that with (a lot of) practice has learned to manage.  And that is enough for the whole family. So each Sunday, in her apron, she cooks. And we get to eat a delicious, although repeated, homemade dish. As the years pass by, her body has weakened, her skin has wrinkled. It may seem that the apron is getting larger with time, but truth is, my grandmother has become more delicate. But even in her sick days, she is determined to cook lunch for the entire family. Which consists mainly on hungry children. But she always does it in her red, ugly, stained apron, on Sunday mornings.