A Eulogy for my Kitchen

Don't it always seem to go

that you don't know what you've got 

till it's gone? 

Pave paradise, 

put up a parking lot.

Jackie and I made up a dance to that Amy Grant song one summer. It's a good thing the fifth grade talent show had come and gone, or that dance may have been memorialized on videotape. And while I still remember some of the dance moves (the ticking clock with our arms was my personal favorite), today it's the lyrics that are really speaking to me. Because it's true, that we don't know what we've got till it's gone. And today, standing in the room that used to be my kitchen, it's never been more true. So if I may, here is what I would say to my old kitchen if I still had the chance:

Dear Kitchen,

First of all, I'm sorry I used you to try and get on a TV show.  You weren't really the most desperate kitchen in America. In reality, you were probably only the twenty-third most desperate kitchen. But despite your flaws, you did have some merit.

Most importantly, you had a sink. A sink that at times drained into a bucket that needed to be emptied into the backyard every seven minutes, but a sink nonetheless. I'm sorry for the disgusted face I wore each time I washed dishes--which was quite often during those two months without a dishwasher. It wasn't you, it was me. And I'm sorry for all the mean things I said each time I turned on the disposer and it spewed chicken fat and moldy blueberries back out at me. I know you were doing the best you could with what you had.

I'm sorry for refusing to let any of my plates and cups touch the insides of your cupboards. It must have hurt a little when I lined them with newspaper, even after Mom had scrubbed them out with clorox wipes. It really was nice to have a place to put plates and cups and bowls and salad spinners and strainers, and all the food that doesn't go into the fridge.

I'm sorry I took your laminate countertops for granted. What I would do for some counter space now...

I'm sorry I didn't work harder to get rid of the ants. After dealing with roaches, mice, and squirrels in the kitchens of my past, they seemed pretty harmless, only showing up when we left crumbs on the counter. But it probably made you feel disrespected...like I didn't really take you seriously.

I really am so grateful for how you helped me. During those months without an oven, you showed me that my toaster oven had no limits as far as it's ability to bake cookies, or cornbread. If it weren't for you, I never would have bought a carbon monoxide and natural gas detector so that you couldn't kill us in our sleep. And after we got the stove to work, you were where I experimented with my new favorite dish--sweet potato hash with scrambled eggs.

You served us well. And now it's too late to thank you.

Regretfully,

Kate

Demo Day:

My temporary kitchen:

A big thank you to these strong men who helped us tear the kitchen out!

Coming soon: Tips on cooking without a kitchen.