Her apron was meant for protection
From a spatter, a splash or a stain
The things that could make her best Sunday dress
But when they were on her old apron
She could give them a really good scrubbing
And that old apron was no worse for the wear,
No matter the washing and rubbing.
Aprons were also a blanket
For the baby she held at her breast.
When the apron was wrapped snug around him
Secure in her song. He could rest.
Its pockets were all about keeping.
A tissue, a receipt, a safety pin,
The Baby’s pacifier, a toggle toy tire,
A ribbon, the address of a friend.
And aprons were also for tugging.
For toddlers who wished she would hold them
She decided the clothes would just have to wait…
Till the holding was done. Then she’d fold them.
Aprons were also for wiping.
Noses, counter tops or damp platters.
Aprons were tied to the heart of her life
To each part of Grandmother that mattered.
That old apron hangs in my kitchen now
And it still teaches lessons I need:
The importance of being unspotted.
The security His children need.
The things that are really worth keeping,
The fondest and best things in life
Are still tied to the strings of the apron
In the jobs of a mother and wife.