So, I’ve been thinking in the kitchen;
about the kitchen. And the magnitude
of one room in a whole houseful of rooms,
becomes more and more apparent.
Kitchen was the hearth in which
we warmed ourselves, inside
and out. The kitchen was home.
Kitchen was where we came
when we needed familiarity;
when we needed assurance;
when we needed to be loved.
Think kitchen, and it conjures strong 
sentiment about family. Life
was less confusing when the kitchen
offered her comfort. Mom was the kitchen.
Dad too. And all the brothers and sisters
with which we may have been blessed,
joined us in the kitchen. For me,
even though that kitchen can no longer
be accessed by me, there is a small ember,
a glow that resides amongst the baseboards.
That spark is me. I left it there. No matter
where I may find myself, that kitchen
will still have a piece of me in it.It is only fair. 
That kitchen continues to live in me.
What a glorious inspiration!
It never dies. 


  1. Oh, I see what you meant. I didn't think Brewer would throw a prompt for one day. For some reason, silly is eluding me. I'll see what transpires by the end of the evening. Forget the raspberries. I prefer Applesauce!

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