From before the time I can remember,

“Kin” around the table meant anyone who was there

– family, friend, or stranger.

If you sat at the table,

or even just stood in the kitchen?

You were now “Kin”.

There’s nothing better to me than to have Kin in the Kitchen.

Music playing soft and low in the background.

The smells of some concoction on the stove, and in the oven.

Coffee perking away

– and always someone waiting impatiently for it to be done.

The ice in glasses of tea clinking when they were picked up for a swallow or 3.

The stories that are told

– how many were true?

How many are those “Texas tall tales”?

We shall never know 😉

Conversations that are sometimes low and quiet.

Other times, you can’t hear yourself think.

This one stirring the pot that simmers on the front burner,

That one adding a seasoning, and a third one saying “Enough!”

And yet one more saying, “But my ancestors haven’t stopped my hand yet!”

The teasing and jesting that takes place!

The food that is layered on the table and cabinets.

The plates that are filled.

The heads bowed as Grace & Gratitude are Blessed.

And then, the quiet that descends.

As the first bites are taken,

and “it is good” is spoken in a reverent whisper.

It was never really about the food on the table, or cooking on the stove.

It was about the talking, the laughing, the caring.

Come along with me for a stroll through memories of Kin in the Kitchen.

These blog posts tell a story of Kin, Caring and Laughter.