of the kitchen
THE CUPBOARD, ALMOST BARE
OHMYGAWD, THE PANTRY
HUNG MY HAT
Packing to move is physically and emotionally exhausting.
We have been living here for 17 years. There are many memories
to pack up. Most of the memories are good ones: celebrations,
friendships, etc.; but sometimes, remembering one terrible
tragedy overshadows them. Maybe changing venues will help.
Right now, I feel very fragile
Oops, first casualty. In the Old Testament, there is a statment
about humans being clay vessels, easily broken, to be scattered
like dust, or to vanish like dreams.
I was standing in this kitchen when the phone call from
Chicago came: We are sorry to have tell you that your son
was found........ I dropped the phone and ran to my studio
where I kneeled on the floor and screamed and screamed and
CUPBOARD, ALMOST BARE
I was told by well meaning people to think of my glass as
being half full and not bare. What I did learn was that,
once you have survived Hell, you can handle all the other
catastrophes. Anything else may be terrible but it is just
another detail of living.
favorite teacup (O.K., its a mug) awaits careful wrapping.
Must mark this carton, open first.
dish, cup, and spoon has been cocooned. We are tired but
proud of our accomplishment
Oh--my--gawd, we have to pack the pantry items, too. First,
we will plan tonights dinner, the menu to include as many
canned (tinned?)items as possible:
broth with mushrooms and tomatoes = edible.
Tuna with mayo = good
Raisins with balsamic vinegar = no way.
I have moved into the new kitchen! I have hung my hat
and tentatively said, I am home.
I thought that packing to move was a chore. Unpacking
is worse. WHERE will I put all these things?
far nothing has arrived broken. Are some items missing?
Were they left on the truck? Are they in the carton that
I forgot to mark with the contents? Or is my favorite
cup in the box on the bottom of the pyramid in the other
is time for tea. I guess I am home. Hopefully, the terrible
memories from the last kitchen were left there, tucked
away between the appliances.
memory can be recalled in an instant. Even from this distance,
I can see a woman answering the phone in her kitchen,
hearing a strange voice, listening to words about death............I
remember that the artist, Kathe Kollwitz, said: In the
end, you only have your art.