Late last night, at the end of my long drive home from Beekeeping School (yes, bees! maybe...), I realized, that for the first time, I had driven the whole way home without giving the drive itself much thought. I mean, I wasn't conciously making sure that I didn't miss the turns, or followed the right route. My mind wandered for an hour and I suddenly found myself...here. It is, I think, becoming 'second nature' to find my way home.
It happens slowly. And it's still happening slowly. Some rooms in this house instantly felt like 'home' with the presence of us, or the presence of our things. And other spaces are taking a bit more time to settle into. The kitchen is the room we have the most (very long-term) plans for, and yet for now - for the next few years - it will be as it is. In this room, I am slowly - slowly and surely - beginning to feel like I am in my kitchen instead of borrowing someone else's. But I still find myself so often stopping the flow of baking and working to try and remember just where it is now, that I'm storing the x,y, or z. I'm playing around with the sun as it moves through the day, figuring out just where best to let the bread rise. The kids are still uncertain as to where to pile the dirty dishes and where to put the clean ones away. And I'm moving things around (and around and around) to find the best configuration for the rhythm of work that we all do here.
For this space - more than any other space in our homes is the one we sink into (forgive the pun) more than anywhere else, isn't it? We do and live so much in this space of a room. We feed and are fed here, we make a mess, our hands dig into the dough, and into the dirty sink water, they become clean again, and we literally put down our roots with each sticky, messy, creative, thoughtful touch.
I'm mindful of this as our days progress and we make and bake, and eat and feed, and clean and cook. That soon, without me fully realizing it, the second-nature graceful 'rhythm of kitchen' will be felt. It is, in fact, happening right now - slowly but surely - one loaf of bread, one sink full of dishes, one dance around the table, one gathered family meal at a time. It's becoming us.
