Yesterday I was standing in the kitchen with my boy, working together to get an appetizer prepared for his pre-prom gathering at a friend’s home. He stood near me chopping and asking for clarification, we laughed over an ingredient error that he purchased and that I tried to recover, in the interest of time, and we chatted as we worked. His music was playing loudly, something not uncommon in our home, where music is integral and it goes very well with cooking. The chef picks the tunes. He shared some songs I didn’t know and he sang along happily – and I had one of those moments of great peace. Happiness. A small moment in time that is a slice of heaven. I was in the kitchen with the boy I love best. Then my mind got whisked on the winds of time and change, thinking about how many moments I had shared with him in the kitchen over the last sixteen years.
Like this, where he sat in his booster chair playing happily as we chatted and I busied myself with something or other:
Or his favourite – hiding and seeking inside the one kitchen cupboard reserved for just that purpose!
Of course, sometimes as I created the food that would nurture us, he was creating masterpieces of another sort right nearby:
And there were so many happy, silly moments – like daddy decorating a cake, er…mouth, with icing. Our boy had to be part of that!!!
There were all the afternoons that I welcomed him as he came through the door and sat in the kitchen for his snack, while his sharing of the day poured forth and I honoured his experiences by listening. There were admonishments in the kitchen – about treating his sister with respect, giving his best effort with schoolwork, and all the other daily life lessons that make up the rhythm of the days spent growing and learning. And there were tears soothed in the kitchen – from hurt feelings, scraped knees, bumped head, or any other manner of life insult for which he might have needed comfort.
Oh, my boy, who has spent so many hours with me in the kitchen. How I have loved watching him grow. And how proud I was to see him yesterday all dressed for his prom and carrying with him, somewhere deep in the fibre of the man he is becoming, so much we learned together in the kitchen.