To the love of my life,
It's been a little over five weeks now since I last saw you. It's been over a month since I was last with you, and my heart aches for it seems as though it has been an eternity. It's been 39 days since I last caressed your forest green counter tops and unloaded your warm, fresh-clean dishes from the dishwasher. I am so sorry I had to leave you, My beautiful Kitchen.
The other kitchens here, they do not compare. Kitchenettes they are called, and the name is fitting: they are petite, my love, and cannot hold the same wonders you can in your beautiful cabinets and drawers. Bare are the counter-tops and either empty or nonexistent are the cabinets under the sink in these pathetic imitations. These kitchenettes are a dime a dozen here: there is one everywhere I turn! Open to anyone who wants to use them, too; constantly begging for attention as people walk by. Your spices, all the glorious seasonings and marinades to be made with you cannot be imitated by the adulteresses that litter the floors of my new home. They try to tempt other students like me with their promise of real cooked food, yet the only thing they are good for is heating left-over Chinese food (taking credit for the creations from someone else's loving Kitchen). With only small microwaves and ovens with stovetops, they are useless to me when compared to you. Their emptiness is incredible not only in their lack of assets, but also in the way that they are void of any possible emotional connection.
I took you for granted, My Kitchen. I assumed you would always be with me, assumed I would always have your gentle light to welcome me when I came home late. I thought I would always have your tea kettle, eager to fill my cup with love and chai. I thought I understood how important your toaster was me . Even the pots and pans, which I so miss now, I thoughtlessly left behind without a drop of remorse. I am so sorry I left you. You mean everything to me, My Kitchen, and I miss you.
I miss the time spent in your inviting space. I long for the hours of cookie baking and scrambled egg making. I ache for the soft nineties rock drifting through the air. The camaraderie of constructing nachos and the peaceful kneading of bread feels all but unattainable to me now, and I crave it every in waking hour.
I swear to you, my darling cookery, that when I return to your loving embrace, I will not brush you aside as I did in the past. Finished are the nights of wandering to a Coney Island for 'something different' than what you could offer me! I will remain faithful to you when I return, and I will shower you with the praise and recognition you deserve! I will read with you those cookbooks you love so much. I will experiment with you, playing with herbs and spices we've never tried before. I will go back to the classics--you always liked peanut butter cookies didn't you? I promise you, My darling Kitchen, I will never take you for granted again. I love you.