I'm Dreaming of a White... Kitchen

I've narrowed down the new kitchen to three styles. My beloved Ikea catalogue has doggy-ears to mark my favourite pages. It was time to set out in hot pursuit of soft-close doors, European-inspired tapware and gadget drawers that were truly designed by geniuses.

It wasn't long and I was up close and personal with my first kitchen. It was a 'kid in a candy store' moment. I knew my eyes were bugging out. I knew my mouth was gaping - I didn't care. I opened drawers, investigated sliding pantries and then I found a dishwasher hidden behind a cupboard door. I almost applauded.

I've never had a new kitchen. I once had a kitchen that crumbled like weet-bix on he inside of the cupboards and drawers and I had to dust everything off before using it. (Please don't tell me it was asbestos.)

I pulled myself away in search of another favourite and found it just around the next bend. A smile spread from ear to ear as if I was seeing a dear, old friend. I took mental pictures and tried to imagine the style in my own kitchen. Very nice.

Finally, I came face to face with the last kitchen. The silvery taps glistened in the battery-operated down light as if it beckoned me to come closer. I reached out and dared to touch the cupboard edges. Oh, so smooth. I began to purr. What had my life been missing? I was so happy, all I wanted to do was lay down in the middle of the floor and make 'snow angels' in the shaggy rug but other folk staring would've ruined the moment.

I inhaled deeply and pulled myself together. Composure girl. It's just a kitchen. But it's not just a kitchen to me. This is where we've talked about life and love and loss and we've held each other, fought with each other and kissed and made up. It's more than a venue where food is served; it's the hub of our home. It's where our hearts beat together when we rise for the challenge of a new day and where we gather in each other's arms at the end of the day.

Our kitchen is touched by the lives and stories of our family and it deserves to be a beautiful place. And with those marshmellowy thoughts billowing through my mind and my heart pulsating with renewed purpose, I left the store and headed home in search of a tape measure and sketch pad. It was time.

copyright 2010 Philippa Vette