If I close my eyes and think of the one place that comes to my mind when I think of where I’m from, I think of my kitchen. And it’s not because it’s my favorite room; it is where I grew up. It is where my roots are. It’s not really anything spectacular to look at, but it has memories. Is has a beige and brown tiled floor with an off-white flowered wall paper that has been there since the beginning of time, it seems. It has all the necessary electronics: refrigerator, stove, 2 ovens, and microwave. But to me, it’s more than that. It’s more than simply doing dishes and preheating the oven.
I grew up eating Sunday meals prepared with caring hands and warm hearts. Meals of steak or roast, mashed potatoes, and corn or broccoli. Homemade chocolate cake often accentuated the meal. My younger sister and I would argue over whose turn it was to day dishes. Somehow, we usually both ended up getting out of it.
My kitchen is the one room in my house that leads virtually everywhere. Downstairs to the computer and basement. Down the hall to my sanctuary, my bedroom. To the dining room, where I spent almost every night as a little girl drawing pictures and playing games. Outside, to the trampoline, pool, swing set, and sandbox. My mom would always be looking out the window in the kitchen, where she was making brownies or cookies, to make sure all of us kids were safely occupied in the backyard.
The kitchen was the most popular hide-and-seek hiding place. If Mom and Dad felt like joining in our game, they would sometimes lift us up on top to the refrigerator. It felt like I was on top of the world. In our six-seven-eight year old minds, we could see the world from six feet above the ground. But the best part was that the seekers could never find us.
I am the kind of person who embraces change but still likes to hold onto the familiarity of the past. I, like anyone, want a sense of security in my life. Although my family is far from perfect, and I don’t get along with them sometimes, I wouldn’t change them for the world. As life goes on and I grow from carrying dolls to carrying car keys through my kitchen, I will always have the foundation of security to hold me up and keep me hanging on.
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3 comments:
I think it is really interesting that you chose a room as your object. No one else seemed to do that which makes it very unique. I can see why you chose it though. It seems to be the center of your house. It leads to everything and so many memorable things have happened there.
I totally agree with fieldhockey. I LOVE the way you picked a room it really makes your paper stand out from others. Definitly makes it more interesting.
i absolutly LOVE this line:
"I grew up eating Sunday meals prepared with caring hands and warm hearts."
it really gives a sense of what the kitchen reall means and what it brings to you.
I agree and I really like the fact that you chose a room instead of a material possession. I also like how you edited/improved your paper since the first time i read it. Good job with the detail about your family memories! =] I really liked it.
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