It is wadded up in a ball in the laundry room – this white apron with a little blue print on it. I think it was made probably sometime in the 40’s or 50’s. Grandma wore it and Mother wore it and, this Christmas, I put it on. I had two reasons: I had come across it and I wanted to wear it and the second is that I forgot until I got two splashes on my shirt and put it on to cover them up.
It fared pretty well, not getting too splattered, although there are two obvious red spots where cocktail sauce dripped off the shrimp I was scarfing down while doing kitchen things.
When I took it off, I just tossed it in the laundry room, and a brief while ago, I feared I should have shown more respect. I think in the future I will take a little more care, just so I can make certain it stays around for awhile; but it is just an apron and Grandma tossed it and Mother tossed it and it was part of everyday life.
It is not a relic . . . well, maybe it is . . . but it is a used relic. I don’t want the day to come when people frame a shred of cloth that came from the True Apron.