Go
I can picture the red accents in my mother's kitchen. The flowers behind the glass cabinet door, the plate decorated with red circles and squares, the toaster that sat on the granite counter.
I see this vision in my mind and I'm brought back to a place of peace and comfort. This kitchen holds so many memories for me. It was redone after I moved out once but then it became my place of work when my children and I moved back in.
I fed babies in that kitchen, taught two of my little ones how to eat solid food sitting in the tall green stool. The brown table held 30+ years of meals, tears, laughter, and arguments. The walls were tinted with splashes of spaghetti sauce.
My kids celebrated 9 birthdays in that kitchen all together.
They would shuffle around my feet as I fixed macaroni and cheese for the hundredth time and served cereal in plastic bowls I ate out of when I was their age. We danced around the island to relieve stress and I laid on the counter crying when life didn't make sense.
It's also where I served Bryan his first home cooked meal prepared with anxious hands and a nervous heart.
Mom said she never felt like a decorator, many times she asked my sister and I what colors went together. The kitchen was her project and she made it a place I will always remember. The red grabbed visitors when they entered the room but the color captured my heart.
Stop
Joining Lisa-Jo Baker and other bloggers to write for five minutes without any major editing or refining. The point is to write what's on you heart and share.
