I started packing up the kitchen today, putting away preschool lunch boxes (unused for three years, now) and the small appliances that have barely been touched since being tucked far away in a cupboard nine years ago. There’s so much that goes in to making a kitchen — the heart of the home. It isn’t just the dishes and glasses and toaster. It isn’t just the food in the fridge and pantry. It’s the memories of meals shared together, after-school snacks eaten as we talk about the day, small hands learning to cook. And as much as I have hated our kitchen since we moved in, oh so many years ago, I love all the memories that have come from it.
I know those memories won’t vanish just because the cabinets do. But we are moving from one phase of our life to the next. Changing our kitchen is symbolic of the changes going on elsewhere. I know it. The vegetarian cookbooks from my 20s and make-your-own baby food books from my 30s aren’t coming with us. Those parts of my life are done. Our new kitchen will be a reflection of where we are now. It will be clean and shiny and beautiful, the kitchen we’ve been dreaming of. But there’s something a little bit sad about leaving the old one behind.
So next Wednesday, we move on. Remodeling our house, remodeling our lives.
I really, really hope the new kitchen looks like the one in this picture.