stillness in kitchen

Stillness in Kitchen

She whispers while she helps
words spoken so delicately,
I can barely decipher the soft silence.
Somewhere, they have meaning.
In the narrow halls that fill her mind,
the far-reaching fields that stretch to ocean waters
cobble paths that wrap around ancient monuments.
Somewhere, they have meaning.

I find peace in the kitchen, the quiet calmness that lingers over the granite countertops, the gentle hum of the stainless hood that hovers over our stove. It's not often I steal a moment to myself to enjoy this stillness, but I somehow managed to catch my daughter seizing what I long for and I was mesmerized. I stood, hidden out of sight, in the hallway as I watched her slice tiny, and soon to be mushy, pieces of cold cucumber. Every once in awhile, I watched her pop a piece into her mouth and smile as if she owned the kitchen. Perhaps in that moment she did.

Watching her rhythm of cutting vegetables with a miniature dull butter knife and singing softly brought me a sense of peace. For a moment, I found that stillness in the kitchen that I have been searching for over time. That stillness that is quickly swept under the very rug I stand on as I cook and bake myself. That stillness that is masked by the hustle and bustle of our daily activities and chores. I found it, not through my own hands kneading dough or slicing vegetables with rhythm, but through my daughters.