Hi friends! Well, we are in the throes of kitchen construction. Our fridge is sitting in the center of the dining room, the countertops are in the trash, and the ugly laminate flooring has been ripped out to make way for the original oak, which has been covered up for too long. Needless to say, in the midst of this, our family can’t find anything we need and we’re already sick of takeout (which doesn’t bode well, as and we’re only on day three of this project). However, that is not what this post is about! Today, I want to tell you about something strange that happened to me – something I didn’t expect from this process. I got swept up in a wave of emotions that took me by surprise….
This past weekend, as my husband and I were cleaning out all of the old kitchen drawers and cupboards to prepare for demolition, I was overwhelmed by feelings of nostalgia. Even more so, I was overcome by a deep sense of sadness. As I sorted through our belongings, the tears began flowing.
Ten years ago, when we bought our 1896 Victorian home, my husband and I were newlyweds. We were a couple of young dreamers, building our careers, considering parenthood, tackling some minor projects in our century-old home, and envisioning all that was ahead of us. We spent countless evenings in our kitchen, talking about how we’d remodel things if we ever got the chance. We’d put in a farm-house sink, and maybe a window over there to let in some more natural light. Of course, right in the center of the room would be a well-appointed island where we’d prep dinner together and store all of those small appliances that we rarely use, but can’t live without. It would be a modest kitchen, but full of character and personal touches.
For ten years, we cut out photos and pinned ideas of fixtures and finishes. Over time our decorating tastes changed, but the dream remained the same: one day we would get rid of our old, tired kitchen and make way for something new.
While we were dreaming, we were also building an amazing life. That old kitchen was where I told my husband we were expecting a baby, as I handed him the pregnancy test with the pink plus sign. That old kitchen was where our daughter took her very first steps, which my husband and I nearly missed because she had given us no indication that she was ready to walk (sneaky, that one!). That old kitchen was where, every night for ten years, I shared a glass of wine with my husband as we discussed the events of the day. It turns out, that old kitchen – the one we had always dreamed of changing – had been part of the happiest moments of our lives.
As we unpacked the drawers and cupboards, it was like taking apart a time capsule. And it hit me. While finally getting our modern kitchen is very exciting, there was something beautiful about that decade-long dream we shared. It represented everything that we were working so hard to create. Not a kitchen, but a life. And so that’s why I cried. I was mourning the loss of the dream that had developed all of those years ago…and maybe that young couple that we used to be.
So as we prepare for the new, we fondly remember our old kitchen and all of the plans and the special moments that were made there. Good bye, old friend. You weren’t so bad after all. One last glass of wine to honor what you have meant to us, and a toast to the dreams ahead…