A mother's apron

A mother's apron(sarina hanna) “I'm glad you made it!.” he ecstatically screamed as he clung to the apron his mother had made for him. The sweet aromas of vanilla , sugar and cinnamon that stuck to the apron like a leech came rushing at his brain in waves, each wave stronger than the last. His mother’s embroidered aprons were the staple of his childhood. Since he was a young boy he felt an immense happiness each afternoon when she put on one of her aprons ready to enter her own world. His mother let out a sincere smile similar to the ones that would remind him that it was her favourite way to pass time in the afternoon. With nothing to fill her time with anymore, he loved seeing his, now grief-stricken, mother pleased like that. She proceeded to sit at her sewing table beside the piles of similarly designed aprons, preparing her work-worn hands for the next apron and round of temporary happiness each time she imagined him.