kitchen table after a meal

kitchen table after a meal


Writing Our Stories Day 9 

How’s the writing going? I’m hearing from a handful of people and I hope that means that many others of you are following along and writing, too.

My mind is already bouncing around with a dozen or so ideas about today’s topic: your childhood kitchen. 

If you lived in multiple places as a child, choose the kitchen that has the most energy for you. Or choose another kitchen – a grandparent’s kitchen, a friend’s kitchen, the lunchroom at school. 

Maybe even write about the McDonald’s kitchen where you worked your freshman year of college. Hey, these topics I’m posting are topics just to get you started. You can take an idea and run with it wherever you want to run. 

 Or maybe you thoughts run like this: childhood kitchen > dog begging for treats > aw, my doggie > things I loved about my dog. And you end up writing today about your dog. That’s a win! The goal is to write, not necessarily to write specifically about kitchens or any topic I toss into the arena.

Write wherever your energy takes you. In my book, that’s Rule No. 1. 

Anyway, childhood kitchens. I might write about these things: 

  • My dad built our house and apparently plumbing ease dictated that he put the washing machine in the kitchen. For the first so many years of my life, I thought of the washing machine as a kitchen appliance. When our dog was happy and sitting by the washing machine, her tail banged on the hollow side, a sound I can still hear in my head today. 
  • Aqua Formica
  • Making birthday cakes for everyone in the family
  • Listening to KVGB radio (behind my head) for the morning news (and possible school closing for snow days)
  • I remember sitting on two huge catalogs (Sears/Wards) to reach the table after moving on from the metal kitchen step stool chair. 
  • The first lunch I cooked for Dad and me when I was about 12. Spaghetti. It did not go well. It was crunchy. 
  • Leon and I cooked hot dogs for ourselves, rolling them around in a skillet, the black cooked lines on each side of the hot dog. 
  • Roasting marshmallows over the fire (gas range) 
  • All four of us reading at the table during meals
  • The drawers underneath the table top where Leon and I kept things (comic books, yo-yos, our own little “junk drawers”  – and the secret places to hide things when you pulled out  the end drawers. 
  • The window over the sink looking out over the backyard. Mom knocking on the window to let Leon and me know when supper was ready. 

What was your kitchen all about?  What are your kitchen memories, kitchen stories? 

Go get ‘em!


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