I live in a large, old house. The main part of the house is 100 years old this year. Its rooms are large, spacious, and open. It is a great space for grandchildren, nieces, and nephews who love to chase each other. In years past, a little Jack Russell Terrier enjoyed running from the front door to the back as quickly as possible, back and forth, back and forth, until he was breathless and ready to get a drink. My house was made for this activity.
The heart of the house, though, seems to be my tiny kitchen. That is the room where everyone gathers. Regardless of the fact that my kitchen is no larger than a small hallway, this is the space that my family and friends choose to occupy when we have gatherings.
My mom and daughter help me cook during the larger gatherings, like Thanksgiving. We are forever saying, “Excuse me, a pot of boiling water coming through!” or “I need to get into that drawer behind you, please.” After a while, you might hear Mom say, “Okay, people, you need to find somewhere else to go! We’re trying to cook in here!”
A few years ago, my daughter and I hosted a baby shower for my sister. We had everything just perfect. The parlor and dining room had plenty of seating and the decorations were on point. Everyone oohed and aahed and milled about taking it all in. We conducted the usual baby shower activities. It was nearing time for the cake, so I slipped away to start the coffee.
The next thing I know, twenty women were in the kitchen, balancing their coffee cups and saucers and their pieces of cake. Regardless of invitations to sit wherever they would be comfortable, they chose to stand in my tiny kitchen and visit over their coffee and cake for quite some time.
Yep, the smallest room has the most glory and seems to be the most loved. Truly, it is the heart of my house.