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The Christmas Apron
- University of South Carolina Press
- Chapter
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99 The Christmas Apron Unfolding my grandmother’s apron, tucked deep in a box of Christmas decorations, I rub my hands across the wrinkled cream colored cloth as thin as gauze and the bright red and blue boxes circling the hem and see her standing at the stove wearing her Christmas apron, stirring pots on every burner, a turkey already roasting in the oven, plates of gingerbread men cooling on the counter. Each one her own creation. Dozens of cousins, aunts, and uncles circle the kitchen table in a haze of coffee, bacon, and cigarettes. Damp wool hats and mittens steam on the radiator beneath the kitchen windows thick with frost. My grandfather hauls in wood in from the shed, smelling of pipe smoke and peppermints, shaking fresh snow from his plaid flannel sleeves. It’s as if my childhood was inscribed on this stained handful of cloth, scattered with a celebration of ornaments tied with green ribbon and a tiny tag pinned at the waistband—This was Nana’s apron. ...