Grandma’s kitchen was always the place you wanted to be. You knew if you had nothing else to do, nowhere else to go, there was someone there… in grandma’s kitchen. It was happenin’. There was always good social life in the , politics, gossip, and jokes. It was equipped with newspaper and donuts on Sundays. Cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends entered and came as they pleased to share news and love and joy. Her floral printed walls were like a bright fall day welcoming you in. It was fluent with the smell of bread, coffee and cookies. Quality time was the meaning of this sacred place, like baking cookies and getting to eat the dough (because hey grandma’s can do whatever they like). Delicately pressing the cups into the ‘peanut butter cookies to get the sugar on them and give them shape. She taught me the trade of loving the peace of baking, and sharing your treats for others to enjoy (which they did). Grandma’s cupboards had those awesome 70′s cups with lids to conform into sippy cups. They weren’t large but so bright to match her walls and all the cousins fought to use them. Grandma’s kitchen hosted card game nights and thanksgiving turkeys. It hosted conversation, laughter, and tears. It was home to late nights and early mornings. It was always warm and busy. Grandma’s kitchen wasn’t always grandma’s though, sometimes grandpa would cook his hotdish, or take time to dance around the kitchen. Sometimes he made coffee speaking in his foreign tongue. Together they made the kitchen home. Grandma’s kitchen was my favorite place to be, surrounded by my family.
Tag Archives: Kitchen
