top photo } l > r : my grandmother's sister, my aunt, my grandmother {and yes, she always looked this pretty}
lower photo } my grandmother's apron
Good morning glory,
That's the way my grandmother would always greet us of a morning, in a sing-songy voice. How could you not wake up happily to that voice and the smell of bacon and eggs frying in the kitchen? As children, my sister and I would stay with my grandparents for a week or so in the summers filling our days with riding big wheels, swinging in the backyard, playing croquet, eating cut veggies and ranch dressing for lunch, and just having a good time.
This past Friday my Dad sent me three aprons that belong to my grandmother. I felt slightly overwhelmed when I unwrapped that tissue paper, as if I was looking at someone I used to know and hadn't seen in a long time.
Up until a few weeks ago my grandparents' lived on their own in the house my Dad and Aunt grew up in. Now my grandmother is living in a care facility {and apparently having a grand time!} and Granddaddy is still at home taking care of their two rather large cats.
I have always had a thing for aprons. Whether they are my mom's kitchen aprons, my dad's clay aprons, or one of my grandmothers'. I feel wearing someone's apron is like looking at their handwriting. It seems to draw you closer to that person in a way I'm not sure how to explain. Like they are hugging you wherever you go.
I wore one of grandmother's aprons around the house yesterday as I worked hoping I would feel inspired to clean a little better. I don't know if that theory really panned out but I did think of my grandmother and the memories we share.
Oh yeah, this bit of yellow is for Erin's week of yellow {which probably officially starts Monday but this felt like a Sunday post to me}. And the story, well the story is just because.
Thanks Dad for sending the aprons, I know you knew I'd love them.
Happy Sunday friends,
H