Kitchen

A poem detailing my life as I existed it in the space of the kitchen.

It was in the kitchen where my mother loaded the dishwasher as I slung around the pots and pans on the floor, babbling excitedly as babies often do

It was in the kitchen where I befriended my first pet, a soft, scraggly dog who licked my face in adoration

It was in the kitchen where my mother packed my lunch for my first day of school, instructing me to make sure that I ate my vegetables

It was in the kitchen where my father sat me on the counter and put an ice pack on my knee, after a tumble off my bike, stating “You’re a tough girl”

It was in the kitchen where I would sit on a step-stool and read to my mother as she prepared dinner, constantly glancing up to see if she was really listening

It was in the kitchen where I discovered the magical powers of the microwave for the first time, as I attempted to cook for myself

It was in the kitchen where my brother and I would rush, after school to make sure that we were first to get the best snack

It was in the kitchen where I would elaborately describe the events of my school day, to anyone who happened to be around to listen

It was in the kitchen where I watched my father sit night after night, drinking out of a paper bag

It was in the kitchen where I taught my new baby brother how to use the radio, his fascination with the volume dial startling the dog, but leaving me in heaps of laughter

It was in the kitchen where the fighting began

It was in the kitchen where my mother consoled me with a batch of her delicious homemade chocolate chip cookies

It was in the kitchen where I kept my brothers, as I watched my mother drive my father to the hospital

It was in the kitchen where my mother told us “Dad will be gone for awhile”

It was in the kitchen where my mother turned up the radio and had my brothers join her in musical numbers that would put broadway stars to shame

It was in the kitchen where mom explained how dad was going to try again

It was in the kitchen where dad hid his secret

It was in the kitchen where mom emptied the contents of his glass bottles into the sink and told dad that we were leaving

It was in the kitchen at our new townhouse where mom described how we were going to start a new beginning

It was in the kitchen where she told me that I would make lots of friends at my school

It was in the kitchen where I cried and told my mother she would never understand what it felt like to be me

It was in the kitchen where she christened our new home with the smell of her chocolate chip cookies

It was in the kitchen where the cupboards grew bare, something that my mother hid well with her dinners that she described as “Something out of nothing” night

It was in the kitchen after my brothers went to bed, when mom told me that we were a team, her and I, capable of conquering the world

It was in the kitchen where mom would lean over the sink and cry silently to herself

It was in the kitchen where my brothers and I joined forces to create a dinner for our mother

It was in the kitchen where her eyes shone with pride as she wrapped us in her arms and told us we were her life’s biggest accomplishment

It was in the kitchen when mom told us that she had a friend for us to meet

It was in the kitchen where we sat at the table and made small talk with mom’s new friend

It was in the kitchen when mom told us she was going to get married

It was in the kitchen of my new house when I felt the weight of having three new siblings

It was in the kitchen when I realized mom was a part of a new team, a team of two, that didn’t include me

It was in the kitchen where new rules were set, homework at the table, chores after dinner, bedtime of nine, and no asking questions

It was in the kitchen when I was doing my chores, wondering who my mother had become

It was in the kitchen after school when I watched my step-brother harm my step-sister in ways I couldn’t defend her against

It was in the kitchen where we sat at the dinner table together as some sort of faux family

It was in the kitchen where my step-sister expressed her hatred for me, an emotional blow that struck me at my core

It was in the kitchen that my mother and stepfather announced a family vacation

It was in the kitchen where I watched my own brothers slip between the cracks of the already fragile foundation of this family

It was in the kitchen where I watched my mother change from a steady, headstrong woman, to a fragile, unrecognizable woman

It was in the kitchen where I would clean up the mess of an after dinner argument

It was in the kitchen where I watched time pass by, my sister was older, her brother more vicious, and my parents more aware of his actions

It was in the kitchen where I grew to know and love my step-sister over after school talks and new found common ground

It was in the kitchen where my girlfriend came over for dinner, my family’s adoration for her filling me to the brim with love and pride

It was in the kitchen where my mother spoke to me in hushed tones, revealing the horrific relationship between my step-siblings, telling me to take my sister’s attitudes with a grain of salt

It was in the kitchen where my smallest brother danced and begged me to watch another magic trick

It was in the kitchen where I sat picking cards for hours, desperate to save his fragile innocence

It was in the kitchen, making dinner for my siblings, when I decided that I was the protector of this family

It was in the kitchen where my step-brother threatened my mother, and then never returned to our home again

It was in the kitchen where I watched my step-father fall apart, as he wept to my mother that he had failed his son

It was in the kitchen when my heart softened for the man, my naive hatred eased with the realization of his struggle

It was in the kitchen where family dinner became a bit more relaxed and I realized I might actually enjoy being a part of this family

It was in the kitchen where I watched my mother try to reestablish her inner strength, her homemade cookies returned and her warm hugs became more genuine

It was in the kitchen when my brother told me that he had ruined his life and he was only seventeen

It was in the kitchen where he cried that he couldn’t become a father and I promised that everything would be alright

It was in the kitchen when my mother questioned me about the $600 missing from my brother’s bank account

It was in the kitchen where I had to swallow the guilt in my throat and lie to my mother

It was in the kitchen where birthday candles were lit and years passed faster than cars on a freeway

It was in the kitchen where my smallest brother asked me to remind him again how to open his locker on his first day of middle school

It was in the kitchen where my sister showed off her first day of high-school outfit

It was in the kitchen where my brother announced with pride that he had been accepted into his dream college in Chicago

It was in the kitchen where I said goodbye to my mother, as I officially moved out of her house

It was in the kitchen where she placed a bag of her homemade chocolate chip cookies in my hand and told me that I was capable of anything