To my kitchen, with love

Thoughts from my cozy yellow chair

This morning, after my husband and teenage daughters left very early for work and school, I found myself standing in my little kitchen. The light was just coming up, the dishes finally dry, and the kitchen feeling adequately tidy. I found myself gazing toward three little glass chickens my mother-in-law gave us from one of her international trips. Only one was completely whole and unbroken. The other two (one for each of our three children) had lost a tail or sported a chipped beak. It sent my eyes roving around the room and I felt such a love for my kitchen.

How does one love a kitchen and why? I just thanked it. It isn’t large or fancy. I know there is dirt in places I haven’t thought about for a long time. But this morning, in the morning light without the overhead light on, it felt perfect. It was as if all at once the years of making, laughter, crying, caring came back to me and I felt such a sense of gratitude for it all. My kitchen has been the home and catalyst to so many dishes, explorations, deep conversations, sickness, grief, and the list could go on for quite some time.

I think I was feeling a sense of me in the space. And, I appreciated that because, honestly, I have been feeling a bit lost and disconnected. So often, I wonder if I am doing a good job at being a mother, wife… at being a person. Recently, beginning this substack, I wonder if I am good enough to draw readers. No, I keep wondering if I write in a way that will draw my people to my writing. Just as my kitchen draws my people to me in various aspects of life - either literally in there making with me, or on the receiving end of something I tried or made with love - I think I started this substack to find a larger community.

I think these posts are little acts of love in the same way I make things in my kitchen. You never fully know if someone will enjoy what you make, and sometimes they just say they like something so that it doesn’t hurt your feelings. I do that, too. But, then it isn’t real. As I write this and other posts, I keep reminding myself that the right people will find it and that will be encouraging. It takes time. I have something to give that I know will be helpful to other midlife women. Trust the process. Keep writing and making mistakes so growth happens.

Finding substack was like finding my people without knowing they were lost to me. Now that I’ve found other deep thinkers, writers experimenting with every next sentence, introverts who see the world differently…I want to feel and be worthy. I want to give back. But, I also want to be seen after so many years of quietly developing my process and model in my head.

Just as my kitchen may have waited years to have me look at it with such love, acceptance, and gratitude, I will wait, fail, try again, and continue until the people who need and want to read what I have to say find me. If that is you, welcome! Please let me know what resonates with you so I can learn and grow. I’ll be adding more accessible and actionable content now that I’ve built a base and background for my work in previous posts. (see this post if you’re just finding me). If not, pass this and other posts on to someone who might appreciate or value the content. I will do the same with your work as I can. That is what I love about this community. I sense that there are many who don’t mind and are willing to support others in their work by passing it on.

Walking this journey with you,

Kerri