Those who know me know that I spend LOTS of time at my parent's house, the same one I grew up in. Even my husband and kids enjoy going. It has become our second home. Because of the time that we spend there, my mother and I are often planning our meals together, haunted by the question, "What are we havin' for dinner?" Which brings me to the subject of this blog.
My mother's kitchen is where I spend most of my time when we visit. It has become a womb of sorts for me. She and I are there together. It is warm. And we are intimately connected. We cook and we talk. We watch the small television together and we laugh. I ask her opinion, get her advice, and curl her hair. She asks my opinion, makes suggestions, and sneaks treats to my children. We shop in bulk and split our purchases in the kitchen. We plan, we dream, and we catch up on the family. I correct her knitting mistakes. She models the depth and breath of motherhood. Sometimes she stands at the sink and I at the stove. Side-by-side we simply exist in the same space amidst the sounds of running water and frying fish.
I drink in these moments, savoring each as if my life depends on them. In so many ways, at least for now, it does. I recognize that they won't last forever. But in the meantime, if you're looking for me and I'm not home, chances are I'm in the kitchen.
Until next time...
