Friday, March 21, 2014

My Childhood Kitchen

In an effort to write more, I am using a series of writing prompts to help jog my memory regarding my childhood.  Today, I wanted to tell you about my childhood kitchen.

The home on Bridgewater Lane will always be my childhood home, the home my Dad built for us.   I lived there from 2-14.  The brown paneled walls of that home house the vast majority of my childhood memories.  I've wanted to forever go back and purchase the house and land just because I will always feel like it belongs to my family.  To me.

 Amazing the memories a single room of the house can hold.  I often think the kitchen is the most important room of the house.  Moms gather around counters, fixing up nourishing meals while administering truth into little souls sitting high on bar stools. 

The first thing I remember is the window above the sink.  Our home sat on five acres, and the window allowed us to look out over the pasture and whichever animals we had at the time.  I mostly remember seeing Buddy, our bay horse.  I also can smell the honeysuckle that climbed the huge tree that fell along the fence line.  Mom opened those windows and turned on the attic fan whenever the honeysuckle was in bloom.  It is still one of my favorite scents.

The kitchen sink is probably where we first started to get trained for work.  My older brother, Devin, and I had to unload the dishes, load the dishes, hand wash some dishes, scrub potatoes, and fix tea. After the dishes were done, we would douse comet all over the yellow sink and scrub away at all the black marks the dishes left behind.

Our golden hued counter tops were large enough to have a full set of bar stools.  So, we would almost always eat our meals together at the bar.  I remember the bar stools were straw colored wicker and we would have to dump them upside down to get the crumbs all out before we swept.  I have good memories about that bar...from eating meals, to praying together, to doing homework, including a huge project about all the American Presidents.

And the Tupperware!  If it was a burnt orange or maroon or sunny yellow or avocado green shade then we probably had it, especially in the cups department!

And let me tell you about the pantry! It was huge and housed all our canned and dried foods. I remember rows and rows of baby food.  It seemed I was always responsible for getting down cans that were high up.  Cream of mushroom soup, anyone?  More than once, I dropped a can on the bridge of my nose, which has left a nice little permanent indentation. 

I can see Kirby as a baby in the Johnny Jump up, hanging in the door frame of the kitchen.  I can see Amelia as an infant, sitting in her carrier, watching the world.  I can see Kiley, encircled with friends, blowing out birthday candles.  I can see my Mom, hovered over a pot of oatmeal, while still dark outside. I can see her reaching high into the pantry to get down our valentine surprises that she had hidden.

I grew up in a kitchen that fed me.  Mind, body, and spirit.


Anonymous said...

What a sweet picture. Sweet Mom!

Anonymous said...

Such precious memories and eloquent words describing everything. I feel as if I've been there with you.