Share

From this page you can share My Kitchen, Austin, Texas to a social bookmarking site or email a link to the page.
Social WebE-mail

Thank you for spreading the word about Narrative Magazine.

NOTE: We only request your email address so that the person you are recommending the page to knows that you wanted them to see it, and that it is not junk mail. We do not capture any email address.

Enter multiple addresses on separate lines or separate them with commas. You can only email up to 10 recipients
(Your Name) has forwarded a page from Narrative Magazine

(Your Name) thought you would enjoy this story from Narrative Magazine.

My Kitchen, Austin, Texas

October 3, 2004

I knocked out a wall and it became a kitchen grand and sprawling as all Texas, the foreign country in which I suddenly found myself. I’d been a right-coast girl gone all the way left, and had never once imagined a drift back, but it was what he wanted. I justified the reversal with the vague notion that marriage was more or less about long-range planning. The state of domesticity, at least, was something I felt comfortable in, while I rocked my babies, the twins, not even two, and scrawled out ideas for the contractor. Gleaming countertops, pale cabinets, the island where the kids would do year after year of homework, the table that would be surrounded by friends, stained by wine—can you see it?—it was a fine, strong, beating heart of a kitchen.

Eight years later the cupboard is bare. But I’m over getting romantic about cabinetry.

Please log in to access the full content.
If you are new to Narrative, signing up is FREE and easy.