The Cook

People are like rooms in a house.  Some are  family rooms with lots of company, a whopping entertainment center and a really comfy couch.  There are those who are offices or libraries where it is quiet and contemplative.  Few will admit to being closets, on good terms with the family skeletons.  Many are cave dwellers,  cellars or garages.

I am the kitchen, the warm place of informal conversation, practical activity, nurturance.  At some point, everyone comes to the kitchen; it’s the heart of the home.  It’s for visiting, jokes, and secrets.  It’s where tea is made and served.  It’s where people work together.  It’s a quiet place after the work of the day is done.

This is a place where you will hear stories.  Some are funny, the totally unexpected fallout of having a house full of teenagers.  Some are tragic (though tempered from reflection), also an upshot of having a houseful of teenagers.  One of my alter egos, the hippie protester who pops in for tea occasionally will talk about politics or issues of social justice.  The buddhist in me may stop in and talk about the wonders of the universe.  Post-punk rock and roll chick may come by.

But most of all, the cook will be in residence feeding everyone in sight.


  1. Excellently stated! I’ve always loved the kitchen in any house, I mean thats where all the food is.
    It’s also always been where I’ve found people to be their most honest with themselves and others. Also lets face it if the truth is bitter, you can find something sweet, or maybe something in your day has left you with a scalding comment or two rolling around in your head, reach into that fridge and find something to cool ya off.
    Couple that with some companionship and you’ve got a recipe for some serious soul refreshment.
    Ultimately I can think of no better room to be or to be in.

  2. Love you, Carlos. You can spend all the time you want in my kitchen!

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