Rubyís Kitchen
Sadie Elliott

Thinking back over her childhood, the kitchen and all its magic stands out notably in Rubyís mind; she remembers the smell of freshly baked bread, the sound of her mother humming melodies. Sunlight dappled on gleaming floors, freshly painted cabinets and Formica counter tops stood ready to house and hold countless dishes and appliances. From the kitchen, it seemed that she could almost always hear the conversations and laughter of others drifting in carrying the heart beat of her family. Yes, Ruby thought to herself, kitchens store the warmest and fondest of memories. Her cooking and cleaning has just really begun for the day, preparing the evening meal, waiting for her own kitchen to burst into life.

Everything in Rubyís kitchen has a story behind it. A special mug given by a beloved sister to commemorate a birthday is tucked away in the cupboard. Generations of china dishes hang on the wall like sentinels guarding the sanctity of culinary life. Cookie cutters, Tupperware, and glass baking dishes are constantly reorganized to make room for the influx of more culinary treasures. As she put a few remaining items away she is conscious of storing the memories and narratives of meals and family times with them. Those stories are the best kind to tellómemoirs of cooking fiascos, spontaneous dancing, and pancake eating contests on Sunday mornings. On golden days these keepsakes waft through the air with the preparation of dinner, seeming to come happily with the breeze through her open kitchen window. Ruby knows these treasured thoughts make it difficult to be lonely in the comfort of the family kitchen, even if she is by herself.

She appreciates that kitchens are rarely without company, a steady stream of traffic ensures that someone with whom you can laugh, quarrel or simply be with will be there. As she bustles about preparing for the arrival of her own family, Ruby ponders, kitchen company. She realizes it is the nicest sheíll ever find; sisters, brothers, parents, cousins, and friends all gathered to share the same small space and check-in at various times and for different reasons. Yes, the kitchen often houses the best (and worst) of conversations, mingling them together as part of family life. Broken hearts are mended over tea, quarrels are quieted and friendships strengthened in the hustle and bustle of kitchen life. Rubyís hands quickly prepare the evening meal and begin to wash the dishes. Itís amazing how many things can be fixed in the kitchen while washing dishes, Ruby smiles to herself. Thereís nothing quite so comforting as watching troubles go down the drain with the dirty dish water and your motherís consolation fresh in your ears was among the many satisfying rewards of daily kitchen communions.

The smell of the roast caramelizing in the oven brings to mind holiday events. Ruby drinks in the details of years long past. Kitchen life was always at its height with holiday festivities and company. The family congealed in the kitchen (much to the happy annoyance of the cooks) to be together. Scrumptious smells and delicious sights teased the taste buds, and watering mouths offer to help every five minutes until there is nothing left to do, but wait, and wait, and wait. Ruby knows the routine, if someone is not cooking, theyíll be cleaning up, or preparing a snack to tide everyone over until the feast begins. The tug of little hands at an apron asking to help or the pulling together to clean up after the big meal typify the lives wrapped up in the steady beat of holiday kitchen memories. After the holiday is done, Ruby is sure the kitchen breathes a commemorative sigh of relief knowing it has housed another family gathering.

Ruby daily finds a certain comfort in her kitchen. She delights in the quiet, not-so-private talks and sentiments disclosed there, the coziness in a place to gather; a place to share and a place to work is never lost. Ruby knows deep in her heart of hearts that kitchens are the place where children are raised, families are reunited and friends gather year round, and that life in the kitchen should be coveted by adults and children alike. Standing at the edge of the sink drying the last dish, she hears the first thud of the screen door, and waits expectantly to hear the stories of the day. Her very own little ones have arrived home.