Fire in the Fireplace

Featured image: Heading Home

Fire in the fireplace
takes away the winter chill
A place of shelter and love
home.

While I was 6 years old, I sat on a very tall stool watching my mom get supper ready. It was a beautiful day outside. The kitchen was filled with sun, warmth and love. We had a very small island in our small kitchen. Our house was the size of a small cottage and painted red on the outside. It was home.

That day my mom had asked me if I wanted to make a cake for dessert. I had never made a cake before – let alone cook in the kitchen with the big oven. I had gotten a very small oven that ran on batteries for Christmas once. It came with some tiny pans along with small boxes of cakes and cookies to bake in the oven. I felt so grown up using that little oven. I baked all of the tiny tiny little cakes and cookies that Christmas day. They just needed some water added to them before I put them in the small oven. I shared them with family members when they came for dinner that Christmas day.

But to make a real cake, in the big oven, wow that was special. I chose to make a marble cake because I couldn’t decide between a vanilla cake or a chocolate cake.

It is incredible how many of life’s roots happen in the kitchen. This kitchen was home. This red house was home. It was a place where I came home after school, a place with many memories filled with love and security. Home has always been a private sanctuary for family and memories.