Kitchen Island Legacies

 

Yesterday I told you about the Hoosier cabinet we got from my parents’ house about a year and a half ago – and how it now has new life as a coffee station. Today I want to tell you about another new-to-us piece that came to our house recently.

            Mom and Dad’s new apartment has significantly less square footage than their house, so they needed to be selective about what they would take with them. Mom did a great job, I thought, choosing pieces from their house that were high quality, solid pieces with meaning to their life and story. Some of the pieces they didn’t take ended up in the rummage sale. Some went to their neighbor’s daughter, who is starting out on her own. But there was one piece that Mom and Dad didn’t have room for, and Mom didn’t want it to end up in a random home.

            So it came here.

            I had told Ryan early on in this moving process that I wasn’t planning on taking much from their downsizing adventures, because our house is full, and I didn’t want to add clutter. I would only take something if we truly had room for it and if it was important to me.

            This mattered.

            What was it?

            The kitchen island.

            I wish I remembered more of the timing of the island’s arrival in their home, but I don’t – and they don’t remember either. But I do remember enough to know why it matters.

            When I was growing up, Mom and Dad had the tiniest kitchen – and no dining room. Their now-vintage-style kitchen table sat in the only space available in that kitchen and was a jack of all trades. We ate our meals at the table. Mom made noodles and cookies and pies on the table. She poured fondant and dipped chocolate on that table.

            When she made the pies and noodles she would pull out a giant butcher-block cutting board and heft it up on the table. When she made the chocolate, she would pull out a giant slab of marble and heft it up on the table. No wonder she was always going to the chiropractor!

            After Mom and Dad added an all-purpose room to the back of the house, Dad commissioned this island from one of their good friends, who was an amazing woodworker. He custom-crafted the island to provide drawer and cabinet storage on the lower half, and the top provided a permanent home to the marble slab and butcher block. They sat side by side, eliminating the need to drag them in and out of cabinets with each use.

            The island sat at a height perfect for Mom and rested on wheels to be rolled around the room to whatever location suited best at the moment.

            And so she baked pies and rolled out noodles and poured fondant and dipped chocolate and served soups and holiday meals – all from the island.

            One day, as she mentally sorted through her furniture, she texted to ask me if I would take the island.

            Ryan and I had an island – a rather cheap (aka affordable) find from Amazon we purchased when we moved into this lake house. It has a drop leaf top that made it a perfect size for our little kitchen. It expanded and contracted as needed. It served beautifully and we overlooked its lack of quality in favor of its affordability.

            Keep the Amazon cheapie or make room for the memory-soaked custom piece? Not a hard choice at all.

            I texted back quickly – Of course!

            So on moving day, the island came here and sat in the garage for a while, until we had time to sort through our own island, clean up theirs, and make the swap. Speaking of hefting…Ryan and I each grabbed and end of that solid, heavy piece and managed to get it up a flight of stairs and into the house. It fits in our kitchen perfectly.

            And the bonus? The Amazon cheapie fits perfectly too – right inside the closet in our office. It holds office supplies and when I need to do a project, I can roll it out, flip up the drop leaf, and have a whole extra working surface. Double win.

            But back in the kitchen, we have the marble slab, so we can try our hand at Christmas chocolates. We have the butcher block for cooking adventures. And we have the memories, which matter more than any marble slab or butcher block.

            Maybe, down the road, we’ll figure out a way to add some block legs to the bottom to make it a tiny bit taller, but even the way it is, it feels perfect. It’s home.