The kitchen

My mother still sits in the kitchen in my mind. So often I saw her there. It was her favorite spot to be and as she got older and less able to move, it became her permanent perch surrounded by a multitude of items that had slowly collected there. The table was there but I was unable to see it as I watched her play her Kindle games or watch TV. The window behind her with sheer curtains and a view to the patio. It was tall and crossed by white wood. There was a metal bird hanging there too and small glass colorful balls which had been part of a windchime which broke. Behind the TV on the table were three more windows looking out to the enormous yard and swimming pool. The bricks and walkways were slowly decaying and the cracks widened more and more each day. The plants were wild and unkept but in Spring there was always a brief splash of color from the many Amaryllis that she loved. When I looked out at the yard, so many memories of chasing birds and the purple martins, of swimming with my Dad when he would hyperventilate so that he could hold his breath for a long time and walk on the bottom. The trampoline entertained us for hours. Sometimes we would just lay on it and look at the sky. The slight constant bounce made you feel like you were being pulled downward, only to pop back up. Family gatherings with my father behind the bar, making ice cream cones with soft ice cream and popping beers for older family members. All of these are wrapped up in that memory of my mother, in her chair, in that cluttered kitchen. So many hours spent there with her.

05 Jul This entry was published on July 5, 2021 at 10:47 am and is filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.