The Kitchen Windowsill--A Domestic Dashboard

The contents on my kitchen windowsill warm me like a cup of tea: A frog statue my boys gave me for mother's day, a potted rose my Godson gave me, a scented candle for when life stinks, and a ceramic spoon that needed rescuing. My oldest son, who was thirteen at the time, made the spoon in art class. He was trying to be practical, which I like. I’ve made it known in our small house that if we’re going to have something taking up precious space, it needs to be functional. (This includes humans.)

The morning after he brought it home, he was almost late for school. It took him nearly an hour to eat his cereal. He lamented the spoon’s uselessness, the flattish bottom making it nearly impossible to get milk and cereal in one bite. I set it on the windowsill and filled it with a cluster of tiny sea-snail shells that had been presented to me from my youngest son’s clutched fist. I gathered the loose shells and rolled them from my palm into the spoon. Together they’ve sat in my view ever since, doing any kitchen utensil proud with its spoon-size dose of daily sustenance, and zero calories to boot!