I’ve been trying to come up with a clever write about my kitchen, having been tagged a few days ago, and oddly it’s not been easy. Kitchens have been my favorite room of the house for so long and now it seems with everyone scattered here and there, my time spent in the kitchen is certainly ever present but less organized.

My first kitchen was in a small house, my first house when I was married. It was very sunny I remember that, with white cabinets we painted. I had violets growing in the windows. I had that kitchen during the first two years of my daughters life and the middle years of my marriage. In that kitchen I learned much about cooking and communication, the second lesson carried forth only to be used much much later in life.

My second kitchen was much larger and sunny, though the sun didn’t stream in the windows like in the first one. It looked out over the front yard and I spent many years there. It had oak cabinets and was covered with school pics and artwork most of it’s years. The appliances were old, copper don’t you know with horrid avocado green carpet finishing things off. Still many happy hours were spent there baking, cooking and doing homework.

When I lived at my fathers, caring for him, I had yet another kitchen, small but with memories of my childhood. The kitchen was soon to be filled with memories of another kind. The sun once again streamed through the windows watching the days go by as my fathers illness changed what he could do and who he was. One of the funny memories I have of that time was Thanksgiving. I had scrubbed the kitchen from top to bottom before the day. During the night my father, hungry for more whipped sweet potatoes, ventured out into the kitchen to help himself. He was getting quite weak at this point, this to be his last Thanksgiving. To make a long story short, he dropped the bowl of sweet potatoes, causing a volcano to erupt from one end of the kitchen to the other. When I came out the next morning there were potatoes stuck everywhere including the ceiling. After my father passed I stayed in that house for a bit, but the memories were no longer pleasant and the renovations required an astronomical budget.

Now this brings us to our current kitchen. It does not have the sun streaming in as it is in the center of the middle floor. It is the biggest and best organized kitchen I have ever had and seems to have a never ending stream of visitors from morning until night. We are still working on making memories in this kitchen and I will need to get started with my son, as now that my daughter has found her true love, I suspect she will need to start her own memories in her own kitchen one day soon.

Last but not least, my dream kitchen. I don’t need anything fancy, never have, but I sure would love to look out the door at this.



One thought on “Kitchens

  1. What beautiful images, sun streaking in the window, and warmth. What more can we ask of a room that sees so much? If the walls in my kitchen could talk, I’d be in deep shit.

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