My Aba’s kitchen has always been a happy place for me. It is the center of her world, a world she shares with me. This is her happy place and she has made it my happy place as well.
Visits to Aba’s and Abu’s house are special times for my family. I always head straight for Aba’s huge, colorful and sunny kitchen, located at the far left of their sprawling bungalow. A visitor to my Aba’s house will have no difficulties finding her kitchen. All one had to do is to follow the fragrant and mouth-watering aromas of garlic, basil and oregano, infused spaghetti sauce, and chocolate cake or lemon meringue pie baking, or let your ears lead you with the crooning voice of Ole Blue Eyes coupled with Aba’s out of sync singing. At any time of the day, Aba always had something cooking. Her kitchen is always a busy but soothing haven. I always feel my worries ebbing away as soon as I step into her kitchen.
The rough terracotta walls with brightly colored Mexican tiles embedded randomly, hand-painted crockery and sweet-smelling fresh flowers always make me joyful. I always plop myself down by the cold, large granite topped island table at the center of her kitchen with all kinds of gleaming copper pots and pans hanging above it. Aba would always set me to task, be it peeling potatoes, measuring out flour or rolling out pie dough. Here, I learned to recognize herbs from their fragrance alone and identify different kinds of flour by running them through my fingers. Working with Aba is our special time together, where I tell her all about my week, my dreams, and my fears. It is in her kitchen where she encourages me to be my best. She shows me how by picking out a new gourmet recipe for me to work on each weekend.
I will always love coming over to Aba’s and hanging out with her in her happy haven. It always allows me a chance to get a new perspective on the goings-on in my life.
Related Response essays