Kitchen Talk

There's a house located in Sweetwater, TN that I used to call my home. My family and I moved in it when I was at the ripe old age of 8. I remember much about this house, but I wonder why the kitchen is fuzzy to me. I spent six years there. Don't families congregate in the kitchen as someone cooks the dinner and someone sets the table? Don't people discuss what went on that day while waiting for the dinner bell to ring (figuratively speaking, of course, unless you're in Ducktown, TN but that's another story for another day)? It seems to me that the kitchen is where it's at! Just think about all those family get togethers. People group around the kitchen to talk and simultaneously annoy those who are actually using the kitchen to cook. Our lives are sustained around this very act of eating that takes place in these rooms. So, why is it that I can't recall much about that kitchen?

I have an impression of a light green. I know if I turn my head towards the white refrigerator that I will see a magnet with a cactus on it and loud, bright colors- a souvenir from our family vacation to Arizona. There's a pantry in there, too and it seems pretty big to house food. Inside there are fudge rounds, but not many are left! The tiles beneath my feet are squares and cold to the touch. Beside the bar area, there's the faintest hint of dog prints where the tiles were laid out to dry. There are tall, white cabinets that are always so out of reach for me just beside the pantry. Although, I can't see the light fixture or the countertops, I can see the old table that my great grandfather built. I can see my little brother crawling around at my feet...

which is a miracle because he's not so little anymore. I have trouble remembering some big things while seemingly unimportant ones (hence the Arizona magnet) are abundant. But the memories I do have of so long ago, I want to preserve. Do you ever close your eyes and think about where you've been or how far you've come or how your life has changed? I do. And if I could go back for a day, I would soak up every last detail of the family habiting that kitchen. I would pick up my younger brother. I would be nice to my big sister. I'd give my stepdad a hug and I'd go tell my mom I love her. I miss them so much.

I know I'll count my lucky stars if Captain J's and my kitchen is half as decorated with love as my family's kitchen was so many years ago.

What do you remember about your old kitchen?