Before the recessed lighting, before the nature toned paint, before the new double conventional ovens and new dining furniture, there was my mom’s kitchen. Long ago, before the new upgrades, my mom’s kitchen looked “old school” with her pear and nectarine wallpaper that covered the upper half of the room and the dark blue and white flowered wallpaper on the bottom, which was separated by a thin white wood molding. The floor, which is still the same today as it was back then, is covered with grayish-white 12”x12” square tiles that stretches all the way from the front entrance to the step before the family room. The sink and stovetop are surrounded by small light blue and white tiles for which there are lightly finished cabinets hanging overhead. And with the sliding glass door placed to the right of the “L” shaped counter-top, it left plenty of room for my siblings and me to run in and out of the backyard.
I can’t seem to recall very many memories that didn’t involve some movement of the sliding glass doors. There were the times during the summer in which the glass sliding door would be left open but the screen would be shut in order to let in some air without letting all the bugs in. Or there were the times when our cooking ran amuck and the smoke that billowed out had to be released through the sliding glass doors. Or, better yet, I remember the times when the sliding glass doors were opened and shut so frequently due to family campouts in the backyard or during some family event in which all the guests had to use the kitchen doors to get to the backyard BBQ.
Now, further into the kitchen, there is a round wooden table with a country-green stain on the legs that also has matching the chairs; however, growing up, there used to be an adjustable rectangular table that had cracking white tiles on the top of it. During dinner times, each of my family members had their designated chairs to sit out around the table, and unfortunately the person who was asked to sit at the end of the table that backed up to the edge of the kitchen right before the step down into the family room, was usually given a 50/50 chance of falling backwards into the family room. I’m not quite sure why we didn’t figure out a solution to our ordeal sooner, but my brother was always the unfortunate one to take the plunge. I would feel so bad for him every time his chair would slip backwards and off the edge (well at least after the initial laughter stopped), but no matter what he would always take that seat.
I guess it’s a good thing my mom did so much remodeling to the kitchen. Now, instead of worrying about falling off the ledge while enjoying dinner or having to look at fruit on the walls, we get to enjoy a peaceful meal and relaxing atmosphere.
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