In the past year or so I’ve cooked in so many different kitchens: in my old apartment, at my friends’ houses, in hostel kitchens throughout Europe, here in Korea, and of course in my lovely yellow childhood kitchen at home.
This week, my family is saying goodbye to our home as we move on to the next adventures in our lives. It’s a hard thing, saying goodbye to a house – and a kitchen – that has held so many incredible memories. Our dark wooden table and our green-topped island are at the heart of almost all the good times we had in that house. Painting sloppy designs on sugar cookies with coloured icing. Making my mom laugh until she cried. Hitting our heads on the beautiful stained glass lamp above the table. Playing Monopoly and always losing to Lindsay. Playing Scrabble for hours. Doing puzzles even though the lighting was horrible. Reciting the old kitchen table rules we had all those years ago, even while breaking them all. Crying real tears. Doing homework. Getting into big fights. Making pizza by hand all together. Trying and failing and succeeding at countless recipes. Having long heart-to-hearts when things were confusing and scary. Walking downstairs to the entire kitchen being decorated as a Mexican fiesta or a 1950’s diner for your birthday. Riding a bike around the island. Doing the dishes quietly after a big meal. Making mimosas on Christmas morning.
When I left for Korea, I was so nervous and caught up that I barely remembered to say goodbye to my house. It’s probably for the best, since given more time I’d probably have dwelled too long on the sadness of the thing and focused less on the beauty of it. Those years were so special, and the house is now so special because it was ours. But we brought that magic and that energy to our space, and we can take it with us when we go. We can continue making up new traditions and trying new things, and we can still be us, just in a new space and in a different way. Those memories don’t go away just because we’re moving on.
Obviously I will miss my house in so many little ways because it was my home. I will miss the late-afternoon light, the creak of the basement door, the way our dog’s nails skittered on the hardwood when he was excitedly running towards us, the way people’s voices downstairs sounded from my room, the stubborn front door that only the people who knew us the very best could open properly, carrying groceries inside from the car on Saturday mornings, sitting on the barstools watching my mom cook dinner, and so many other things. But I’m also so excited for the future: to see what my mom’s next home is like, and what my home will one day be like, and to see what kinds of memories I’ll make in new places.
This post is clearly not much about jam, but this is what happened today when I sat down to write. If you came here for jam however, you shall not be disappointed by this recipe. It’s one of the easier things I’ve made, yet very delicious and with the perfect texture. You can find the recipe over at Guinea Pigging Green today here or the original recipe directly at Oh She Glows here.
