Lora Lovin Osburn

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You are here: Home / My Dear Family / Standing on flooring from my past
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Standing on flooring from my past

My Dear Family· Reflections

19 Feb

This olive green & white brick pattern embossed linoleum that was underneath a thrifted table yesterday was the same as in our kitchen during my childhood years before mama had a beautiful, creamy ceramic tile floor installed. 

For a few moments in a quiet, and stuffed-to-the-brim furniture room with the nostalgic floor, I was back in mama’s kitchen.

I was remembering endlessly spinning like we were on rides at the fair with a ticket that never expired in our yellow leather high back chairs with their sturdy four legged silver bases that surrounded our black Formica table that always held the most scrumptious meals. 

I am so thankful we were allowed to spin in those chairs, because what good is a spinning chair, if you can’t spin?

I can see the yellow long corded rotary dial phone on the wall by the sliding glass doors that gave view to rows of corn, no matter which way you glanced. 

Above the cabinets were Jiffy stitched, and framed, crewel embroidered garden vegetables. 

The texture of the thick yarns and intricate detail amazed me as a child and each time I think of the mama-stitched love, I wish I’d saved those little rectangles when cleaning out our family home. 

There was the JFG coffee in a tin on the counter top near an electric can opener. 

I could almost feel the humidity of an Illinois summer as our entire family put up corn in our happy little country kitchen- the shucking, silking, stripping the ears clean with the kernel cutter, cooking, and filling the square yellow-lidded freezer containers. 

Then there was mama in her beautiful, multicolored housecoat standing at the stove making, and serving, all sorts of delicious and nourishing meals while all the time engaging us in conversation and making us feel loved.

I did save, and do wear, her beautiful housecoat. 

Happy memories danced through my mind while standing on flooring from my past. 

It is said the kitchen is the hub of the home. 

I say the family that dwelt in my childhood kitchen was the life & breath & tangible goodness of God to me. 

Though my parents feet are now firmly planted in the kitchen of their eternal home, I give thanks for the foundation of memories embossed on my heart and mind.

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