It wasn’t much, Mary’s kitchen, tiny compared to most. Yet I wonder even today, at its charm and simplicity. It truly was the heart of your daughter’s home.
I remember marvelling at how tiny it was. Just how did she raise and feed a pack of eight children in a space smaller than my mudroom? Everything had its place and still she managed to pack it with treasures.
It left deep impressions on anyone who spend any time there. Just ask someone in my family and they’ll tell you…
About the fish tank on the kitchen table, a treasure chest bubbling softly, allowing air to circulate for her beloved goldfish. And the statue of Mary praying over the tank. We didn’t dare ask about that, had to accept she knew what she was doing.
Of the bird-cage tucked into a corner wall lined with the Stations of the Cross and the mirror just above her farmhouse sink. Never understood that mirror until recently. Now I know, being mostly deaf, Mary could see who was coming and going behind her. She’d never miss a thing while doing the dishes and whistling the weirdest, saddest song imaginable.
I remember yellow and white and a large black cookstove. Chocolate cake and coffee. Heat in the winter and the tic of the cat clock on the wall. Her crocheting with the black and white tv blasting so loud you couldn’t hear yourself scream.
A while back, my mom paid tribute to Mary’s kitchen by creating it in miniature. She gave it to me and I proudly display it in my living room. I’ll share it with you now, if you don’t mind indulging in my nostalgia a bit longer…
I miss you Gram and your chocolate cake.