My daughter proudly hung a pretty, little pink apron alongside her mama’s little collection of such. Funny, how something given to her by her dance teacher years back can have new meaning to her now. The apron was given to her to use as part of a colonist outfit in one of her dance recitals. Her teacher allowed her to keep it afterward–totally uncharacteristic at the time. Anyway, my daughter, apparently, kept it and dragged it along with us when we moved to West Virginia five years ago. Now, it hangs proudly alongside the other treasured aprons in this city-girl’s kitchen. P.S. Last week I found a sweet apron with fabric displaying tiny strawberries and polka dots, all in various shades of red and pink. It was only ten bucks! Alas, I managed to talk myself out of it. It had felt like such a splurge at the time, even though my gut knew better. I wished I had listened to my gut. I’m thinking about going back to see if it’s still there. If it is, it’ll mean it was meant for me, right?