Mama's Kitchen

“Get out of my kitchen!” Mama yelled, gently swinging a wooden spoon at the offspring, clogging her work surfaces and floor. While her voice was loud, her tone was joking and love-filled, and a smile twinkled in her eyes. The children scattered, laughing. Twenty minutes later, Sally wandered back to ask a question and stayed for a conversation. Ralph soon joined, drawn by the irresistible smells wafting from the stove. Lexi wanted Sally’s opinion on her outfit, but Mama’s tales from her youth put her own troubles far from her mind. Finally, Edmund bounded in, hands coated in blood and fur, begging to put his hard-earned squirrel meat into the soup.

“Ewwwwwww!” the girls chorused in unison.

“Mama, please don’t let him! This is our favorite soup, it’ll ruin it!” Lexi pleaded.

“Will not!” Edmund retorted. “When you found that ‘Healthy and delicious’ wild asparagus the other week, Mama let you put it in, and it did ruin it – toughest jaw workout I have ever encountered. This squirrel was young; he will be tender and delicious. Please, Mama, may I?”

“Lexi, it’s only fair that he gets to put it in, but Edmund, please make sure your hands and the meat are clean. No matter how cute we all find squirrels, we do not want to eat their fur. Now, all of you get out! How am I supposed to get anything done with you rapscallions scattered about in my way?” Mama scolded, then added once they were gone, “Finally, a clear kitchen that I can actually work in.”

“Kids, it’s suppertime!” Mama called. The peaceful kitchen of a moment before was replaced by hurried feet and squabbling voices.

“Mama, do I have to eat it?” Sally asked.

“It is going to be good! He was a top-rate squirrel,” asserted Edmund.

“Yes, you all have to eat some, even you, Lexi.”

The clinking of spoons on bowls drowned for a moment the squabbling of the children.

“Okay, I admit, this is pretty good food. I can hardly tell what’s squirrel and what’s chicken,” Lexi admitted after a bit, and the rest agreed.

“I don’t want to say I told you so, but...wait a second, did you just say that squirrel meat tastes just like chicken? You’re so cliche!” Edmund responded.

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are…”

“Okay, okay, both of you, stop fighting and go start the dishes.”

There is nothing quite like a small kitchen and doing dishes to create memories of all kinds, and Mama’s kitchen was among the smallest known to mankind.

“Hey, that’s my dish towel, Ralph!”

“Too bad, Sally, go get another, there are plenty in the drawer.”

“Edmund, how am I supposed to put this away, when you’re standing in front of the drawer it goes in?” Lexi asked, frustration coloring her voice.

“You know, Lexi, it would be a shame if I hit you as I snapped this dishtowel,” Edmund began, but Mama stopped him before he could make good on his threats.

“Don’t you dare! Get out, all of you! Go find something you can do without fighting, or making me trip in my own kitchen.”

It had been a long day, and Mama should have been relishing in the sweetness of a well-deserved sleep. Alas, rest eluded her, thanks to muffled voices that rose and fell in the darkness. Finally, she gave up and stumbled to the kitchen for a drink of water, only to almost literally stumble on her progeny that were scattered about on the kitchen floor. She was on the point of asking what they were still doing up when she heard Lexi sniff. Her first high school dance had not gone well, and her heart was shattered beyond repair. Mama’s warm arms and wise words, along with the abnormally kind add-ins of siblings late at night on a kitchen floor, were a glue that had the power to mend even the most broken of hearts. It wasn’t long before Lexi felt the world wasn’t entirely devoid of good, and her laugh joined in with the others once again. Mama began fearing that their exuberant laughter might wake Papa and was preparing to say something when the clock chimed two.

“Two o'clock! What are we still doing up? Get out, all of you! It’s time for bed. Good night, sleep well. I love you.”

“We love you too,” they chorused, heading to their bedrooms.

The years passed quickly like the loveliest of dreams. The children left for college, but every break saw a return of the crowded, noisy kitchen.

Mama had enjoyed her quiet kitchen while the children were in college. Now with their return and Lexi’s wedding to plan, Mama could scarcely move in her kitchen without bumping into one child or another. Mama cooked the mixture for homemade ice cream, Sally cut lettuce, and Lexi tried to cut strawberries, but spent more time fluttering about, worrying about the flowers, the cake, and her dress.

“Do you think it’s going to rain? Was it dreadfully stupid of me to plan an outdoor wedding in early May? I know the saying is ‘April showers bring May flowers’, but do you suppose they might carry over sometimes? It’s happened before,” Lexi stressed to Mama and Sally.

“Have you seen my slingshot?” Edmund asked, suddenly appearing around the corner. “I was thinking that since squirrel and chicken are so similar, it might be a good addition to the chicken salad sandwiches. Don’t you think?”

“You wouldn’t dream of it! I will write you out of my will!”

“You don’t have a will. Besides, generally, the will goes to children, not siblings.”

“I will adopt you, write a will, and then write you out of it.”

“That seems like a lot of work, Lexi. Aren’t you pretty busy with wedding stuff as it is? I suppose I will leave you all to it,” Edmund finished as he walked out the door.

Thanks to Sally and Mama’s reassurances that the forecast was looking good, Lexi finally settled down enough to cut the strawberries. She had just finished cutting them all when Edmund strode into the kitchen, a broad smile on his face, and a squirrel in each hand.

“Don’t you dare!” Lexi yelped. “Get them out! They’re so cute, they deserve to live, not die! You should have left them alive, not killed them just to annoy me.”

“I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, right! Let me help you,” Lexi said, advancing toward him, fists raised.

“Alright,” Mama said, “you are both full-grown adults. Take your fighting out of my kitchen.”

Mama sighed. Only yesterday, it seemed, she was constantly fighting to work in her kitchen in silence and peace. Now she was alone with her thoughts and the whistling of the tea kettle. Closing her eyes, she fancied she heard laughter and playful fighting. Slowly, she rose, poured herself a cup of tea, and went back to dreaming again of the lovely, chaotic noise of yesteryear.