When I was a child, our kitchen was so much a part of our family, it should have had its own special name. “Kitchen” sounds so common and unimportant for such a noble room. A lot of warm memories centered around the room where we spent most of our time.
Mama and Daddy always wanted a large family. They had the four of us natural children, one was adopted, (making five), then our cousin lived with us, too, (making it six). We also welcomed foster children into the fold when they needed a home and to feel love —in our home, they received both.
When there was anything important to be discussed, or decided, we were like small knights and ladies of the kitchen oval table. Within reason, all of us had a vote on the workings of the family with Mama and Daddy always having final say.
The kitchen was the center for home cooked meals and meaningful discussions during cleanup; where Daddy helped us with homework; Mama braided our hair before school; laundry got sorted; Monopoly was played by the hour; where we wrote Christmas cards; planned family vacations; all of our weddings; and when a slow song came on the radio, where Daddy held Mama and they danced under the warm gaze of six, often many more, pairs of adoring eyes.
When I was a high school senior, Mama and Daddy gave our kitchen a facelift. When the old cupboards and woodwork were torn out, it made a huge pile of oak and Daddy saved it. Its absence made room for Mama’s double ovens, built-in desk, dishwasher, and the Corian countertops she dreamed of and they saved many years for.
The next Christmas, they surprised each of us with a small 3-drawer chest and another 2-door chest —Daddy made them all from the oak that was part of our old family kitchen.
Mama and Daddy are gone now and so is our family home. But each time I look at either of the chests, I am reminded of the good times we shared in that room. Somehow, the memories and love must have gotten sucked right into the old oak wood.
The drawers and chest interiors still smell just like our kitchen …
I had a similar experience with saved oak. We called it "Yankee resourcefulness". Now it's called "repurposing.