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Archive for the ‘Tole Painting on Kitchen Stools’ Category

My kitchen stools were finally pulled out of storage. The house we rented the last two years had a very stool-unfriendly island in a frustratingly family-unfriendly kitchen. A refrigerator opened was the equivalent of Gandalf commanding, “You Shall NOT Pass.” If the dishwasher was open on the opposite, well, that was just me glaring the same thought.

I missed my boys sliding onto a stool to snack, do homework, sometimes eat dinner, cook s’mores  or whatever yummy was coming out of the oven. I missed kitchen living. If the kitchen is the heart of the home, then my stools were the arteries that gave that heart life.

We are back in the state where we had lived for 19 years in the house which did not sell (thank you, God) – and in my kitchen with the family friendly island.

Back to the place I most often met one of the older boy’s current girlfriend, or where their friends would eat before a soccer or football game.

Where life was recounted. Just across the counter, I pulled from the oven the “You’re a Cake” lecture. The “Are You Man Enough” moment happened there.

It is a place covered with friend’s dishes and mine, too, when they come for dinner – and where everyone refills their plates for second helpings.

It is where life gathers, in stacks and piles, in paper and little boy what-knots.

It is a place I meet my weaknesses, like kitchen organization and boys running for solutions to brotherhood battles for Solomon-type judgements.

It is where my mom painted my stools with Tole-style designs, 3 with my style preference, 2 with hers.

5 Stools where differences learn to sit together both literally and figuratively, loving and valuing those differences.

Life spills out over that counter, a divide of giving and taking.

Words pass from both sides, like dishes, spicy or muted, nutritional or comfort, hit or miss words, laughing words, lashing words, loving words.

Yes, my stools are back. I am home.

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