I have fond memories of the small white kitchen in my grandparents house. The two rocking chairs side by side facing the small tv.... The natural wood trim that was all built by my grandpa when he built the house from an old barn..... The open shelves and cabinets stocked with food such as my grandmas homemade raspberry jam. When I was little we made round white cookies that had a top piece with a hole in the center and they had a layer of that homemade jam that peeked through the hole. I remember watching my grandma making beef stew and it stuck in my mind years later because I made it the same way. I can still picture today my Grandpa standing in front of the stove cooking french toast or pancakes. So many yummy meals came out of that kitchen. The fresh veggies that were grown in the garden were so much better than store bought. The tantalizing pot roast and mashed potatoes were one of my favorites. I can see my Grandma standing there in her apron stirring batter in a bowl.
I hang onto these memories from the past because they are the best part of my childhood. They were what made life bearable. They were an escape from reality. In this other life, I felt LOVE.
Peace to y'all.