I fell in love with the kitchen

For the first time in 9 months, I missed my kitchen...the sunlight in it, the way it was warm in the afternoons, the view of the sunset in evenings, the way it was located in the corner of the building and had access to two different sets of windows, the way the floor smelled after Beta had cleaned the floor, the window behind the sink which made washing dishes relaxing.

I think the kitchen was where I fell in love with the apartment. Something about it reminded of Iran, of good old days that were happy and warm and accompanied by delicious homemade food...maybe it was the sound of children playing outside which was a reminder of our house on 18th Street, in Ghandi? Or maybe it was the size of mamani's kitchen... that's why! where she cooked all the time...maybe it was a reminder of those eftaaris she had during ramedon, when she was making halvaa at around 6:30 p.m. right before mehmoons came, and I had to wait for eftaar to eat it...what a sweet torture it was...

I cooked A LOT in that kitchen. If fact, cooking became a meditation, it was the only thing that calmed me down right before the bar results came out on that day in May 2005, I had to wash, chop, rinse, chop some more to calm down, of course with lots of olive oil and garlic...I cooked for friends...family, Tina soup when she was sick.

Then there were those wild parties, where everyone gathered in the kitchen...in that small 4 x 8? kitchen... when the alcohol spilled all over the floor and it became a sticky floor...and the one time, when my birthday cake slipped on the floor...

I want my kitchen to look like that again, to feel warm and happy. Can that happen?