I've been sitting on these chairs in this kitchen for thirty years and three months.
Freezer, dryer, rusting sink – all exactly the same as I remember.
Table and chairs – the only thing missing is my Grandpa. (He passed away in 1991.)
Stove, refrigerator, microwave – Stuffed full of food, just like I remember. Be careful when you open the door.
I could write a book about each individual item in this house. From the pink walls to the dead flies in the light to the peg board to the dishes decorated with tree-stars, every single object is ripe with memories.
My heart sings to see my daughter making her own memories in this space, with these things, with my beloved Grandma.
It makes her heart sing, too, only she doesn't yet know why.
Some day, I'll tell her.
© 2009 – 2018, Tara Ziegmont. All rights reserved.