Kitchen Window

What do you see in this? Hear? I can hear the echoes of years of a family growing up in this house, in this kitchen — the hub of the house. I can picture floor mopping — first done by a young mother; taken over by a pre-teen daughter; the mother, now middle-aged; then the daughter, now middle-aged — while her white haired mother sits at the kitchen table watching with an air of baffled interest. I hear the man of the house caroling, “I’m home! What smells so good?” Mom scolding when her gangly teenaged son and his pals raid the freshly filled cookie jar. Can you see the good holiday dishes stacked on the table, waiting to be washed and used in the dining room for Thanksgiving dinner. What about the good silver in a silver chest laid open for inspection? Oh, the stories this kitchen could tell. Just look at it. Just listen. Shhhh…It’s all there, waiting to be discovered.

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