I wanted to be alone in the kitchen

Dear Delyara, Not forever. Just long enough to make tea without answering anything. The kitchen has become the room where everyone comes with a need. Water, snacks, forms, where-is-it questions, conversations that start with “just quickly,” someone standing too close while I’m trying to think. By evening, even affection in that room can feel like crowding. Tonight I wanted the kitchen to be just a kitchen for ten minutes. Kettle, mug, quiet, my own thoughts. Instead it was the usual thing. One child doing homework at the table, my husband asking about tomorrow, the dog under my feet, and my own tea going colder by the second. There are rooms in a house that stop being rooms and become service points. That is how the kitchen feels to me now.