Kitchen Tears

Not my actual kitchen, but the coloring gives you the idea.

The yellow and brown decor of our 1970's kitchen is forever etched in my mind. Everything was chosen for a little style of it's time and for practicality. With five kids and a dog my mother always wanted to make cleaning as easy as possible. The walls were wall-papered with glossy yellow, white and orange flowers, making it easy to wash. The family picnic style dinner table had five chairs and a bench upholstered with white vinyl bordered with yellow piping. The bright colors of the kitchen did not often match the mood of the room. For this reason, it was my least favorite room of the house. My mom was not a great cook. Meals were well-balanced with foods from all the four food groups, but usually bland. I was known as a picky eater. My dad was a large man with a short temper and a booming voice. Often his frustration with work, me or any of my siblings were often taken out in the kitchen while eating dinner.  In his moments of anger he would usually notice me strategically playing with my food to make it look like I had actually eaten some of it. This would spark a loud bellow directed at me to EAT! His voice would penetrate through my skin making me tremble inside, and quickly bringing me to tears. His frustration with me often led to a punishment of having to sit at the table until I ate my dinner. Everyone else was excused from the table as I sat, shoulders heaving up and down and tears falling into my food. Frequently this was how dinners were played out in our family kitchen. A memory I wish to leave behind, but is forever engrained in my mind.