mathechr
what i remember most about my grandmother was her apron. it was dark blue, but always clouded with flour and sugar, smears of batter and butter. she made the best cookies, the best breads. she made comfort. warmth. she made "home".
I tried not to look. She didn't look as good as I remembered. She looked tired and worn out. We didn't leave on the best of terms, but if she said Hello, I would have to, of course.