Retrospective

The kitchen held our words and bodies in cups of coffee, bottles of beer, and glasses of wine; we came together, travelers resting on a twenty-six year journey complete with stories, though in itself incomplete. 

The kitchen changes. 

This kitchen in Chicago has been a kitchen in Iowa, or Arrowhead, or Salinas St. when the story wasn't much more than a preamble, unaware of its ambling nature. The road ahead was barely visible. The road would diverge again and again with treasure-filled tangents, as well as dead end streets. 

Every path means a way to somewhere. 

Some went north, some moved south, some east, and some stayed west. Different houses, varied kitchens; large and larger, and even so small one fridge door open meant every drawer closed…and only one person at a time. But not in this mid-western kitchen restored and reconciled with its past, welcoming the present, prepared for the future meals to be prepared, and drinks to flow like new wine in an old bottle, new words in an old kitchen resurrected for another day. 

Like us before it, this kitchen was the same as before, but like us to each other, somehow different, better.

Spirits and voices, conversations and distance, relation, perspective, commitment, passion, intimacy.

Retrospective.