In The Kitchen - #52Ancestors

When I think about the kitchen it instantly triggers memories of my mom sitting in the kitchen at the table with a sewing machine. Don't get me wrong, we did eat and gather in the kitchen too. Our family moved all of my life and I never lived in a place for more than two years. So I had lots of different kitchens in my life.


I am not really sure why the memory of my mom sewing at the kitchen table is the first thing I think of. I could not even describe the kitchen to you because I can not remember what it looked like. I do remember that we were living in Grand Rapids, Michigan at the time. My mom, brother, and I had all just came back to America because the Iranian Revolution was beginning and made it too dangerous for us to continue living in Iran. A company my father worked for was there and he had to stay back to finish his work. It must have been in 1978 because that is when the war started. I remember that our family did not come back with much because we left so quickly.


I remember my mom sitting at the kitchen table a lot with her sewing machine whenever she was not busy taking care of my brother and me or things around the house. I can still hear the sewing machine coming from the kitchen when I was home from school and playing. I would even hear it sometimes at night. It must have been my mom's way of dealing with fears of my father still being over in Iran with the dangers of war. I am not sure, but it is something that I should probably ask her about someday.


I can remember she had different fabrics around her sewing machine that she was cutting and sewing together. I was not aware at the time that she was working on Christmas gifts. Some of those gifts were for me. She had been making me a bunch of outfits for my barbies and favorite Mandy doll. She had spent so much time working on them. I had several of the outfits for several years. I do not know what happened to all of them. I am sure when I outgrew playing with barbies and dolls that they were donated to a charity. Since we moved around so much we did not keep things we no longer played with.


Maybe that is a memory I remember about the kitchen because it was a gift that I had truly treasured and the fact that I saw her make them and she put so much time and effort into my gift meant a lot to me. I had tried to think of other memories and family stories linked to the kitchen, but this one just kept coming back to me and so I felt I should write about it.


Until next time, take care.

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