Kitchen Memories

I'm sitting in my favorite place in our apartment, perched on top of our chest freezer, with my back up against the wall and a great view of the sink. I'm not quite sure why I love it here so much, but I think a lot about how much time I spent in the kitchen when I was little and maybe that's the attraction. I love food . . . but that's not really what its all about.
In our kitchen we had brown and yellow and orange linoleum flooring - sixties style. Sometimes it was my job to scrub it and I can remember how the years of dirt never seemed to scrub out of that paisley square pattern. Yet somehow, I ended up in the kitchen, often sitting on the floor or climbing the counter tops.
When I was kindergarten, my mom would pull out one of the lower drawers, moving the measuring cups and rolling pin, and make into a little table where she would serve me lunch so I could be with her while she worked. (Our big table was in our dining room).
But my favorite place was the big square of sunlight that came in from the large old-fashioned windows and would warm up our yellow and orange linoleum. I would sit there in the mornings, before our old house had heated up, like a cat soaking up the sun. I don't remember whether I talked to my mom, or just sat . . . but I find it interesting that here I am again, in the kitchen.
I chatter to my roommate while she's doing dishes, or smile at my boyfriend as he's making me dinner (I know, isn't he wonderful!) but somehow the kitchen always seems to be a gathering place. And I think I've found my favorite spot again, perched up here on top of the chest freezer, writing away on my blog.
Its funny, I haven't written for awhile because of the hubbub of my life, adjusting to a new relationship and trying to make life plans post graduation - somehow that all seemed to confusing to put on a blog. Yet here I am again - a comment from a friend, a request from my mom, and I'm writing. But not about that big life, ironically, instead what I remember sitting here is the simplicity of kitchens, warm memories and feeling safe. Perhaps this is why I blog.