My grandmother always wore an apron while preparing meals,
to be taken off when sitting down to eat.
Aprons were washed, hung outside to dry, ironed, folded,
stacked in a drawer.
I loved watching her take an apron out of the drawer
and in one continuous movement, shaking it out,
putting it over her head, tying the back, smoothing the front.
Often I went into the drawer, arranging the pile of aprons
in the order of the colors and flowers I liked.
She knew.
