The Kitchen Windowsill
The kitchen windowsill can tell a story and can connect generations upon generations—it is a place of beauty, mess, stress, cleanliness, hope, desire, pain, dreams, vision, frustration, labor, love, scenery, temperature, seasons, fear, courage, strength, order.
Every mom has a windowsill that she perhaps mindlessly stands in front of every morning and evening, missing the beauty in the mess.
Home is such a safe place for many of us, and if it is not, my hope is that you create that space for yourself. The kitchen windowsill is a moment in time, although it appears to be a day-to-day thing, it is the window into the soul, the window into your life, the window into the growing years, and we each have our story of the sills of our life. These windows are several, and these windows connect the generations of women that are part of your tribe—your family, your life. Some sills connect another family’s story, and somehow while the stories are separate, they are connected in some way.
My first windowsill was really my mom’s, but with anything motherhood, is familyhood. My windowsill was in Rockland, MA. It was one window over the kitchen sink; it was decorated pretty, with curtains, and a view of our back yard and our neighbor’s backyard. What I don’t know are all the hopes, dreams, thoughts, anxieties, fears, and courage that swirled around that sink and sill. I know there was a lot of love. I know while it was humble, it was heart-full.
That particular sill raised a family of 5, from newborns all the way until every single one of us left the nest, except me. That sill framed our family life, the chaos, the love, the order, the comfort, the cleanliness, the affection and the day to day operations of growing up Mellor, a lot of love and sprinkle in some crazy. It endured the raising of babies to toddlers, to school-aged children, to 5 teenagers at one time. The seasons were welcomed and the windowsill was a place of comfort, as was the home. Girls became women and boys became men, all through the frame of that windowsill.
My kitchen windowsills have since changed. As a new bride, the brand new kitchen windowsill in Georgetown, MA, full of wonder and hope, I loved having my new house, newly built, and so much promise of building a great life together with my husband. It was adventures in decorating, and the reality check that keeping up with house & home is a lot of work. That windowsill first showed me that life, motherhood and owning a home is both difficult and divine.
After baby 2 arrived, I changed my sill to another new home in a town closer to my in-laws, the coast, and to a community, we were hoping to be part of. Again, a newly built home, so much promise, we settled in and this kitchen windowsill helped this mother of 2 work through a bit of baby blues. I hung my head and heart at my sill with disbelief and doubt when 911 occurred. The arrival of baby 3 would lift the depression that tried to capture me, and we would have pep talks at the sill every day that we can do this, the mom of 3 under 3. This windowsill, in particular, danced with dreams, visions, hopes and the reality of the mundane nature of raising 3 babies so close in age. This sill went through a renovation both literally and figuratively, as this Mom created ways to blend motherhood with passion, purpose and working from home. This sill held an angel figurine that my mom sent me when I was feeling baby blues months after having my second child—this angel gave me strength daily, and reminded me all is well in the world. I will be okay.
Then came a new sill. Same community, but a location that provided more opportunity for our family, my growing business, and hopes and dreams to renovate that home and create a space that truly reflected the vision and desire of my home, life and lifestyle. There was no sill at this kitchen, just windows on the opposite side, which was a sign that one needed to be created. Three years later, a big renovation created the grandest sill of all. The theme of hopes and dreams combined with some fear and anxiety swirled around this space, which has been my greatest of all. Would this be the forever sill or would we move on to yet another sill? This sill, both the old and the new, have such fond memories of childhood, the magic, the mundane, the mess and the marvel of this ever so precious time in life.
While my home was beautiful, it was time to move on. A shift in growth, there was an urge to simplify, vacation more and do less. We landed upon another sill, same community, and across the street from the 3rd sill. The view from this sill is just beautiful. The thoughts both positive and negative still swirl around in my head—the sink still fills up with dirty dishes, but the view and sill are full of promise, hope, peace and gratitude. This sill has seen much growth, much transformation, also sadness, loss and has brought our family from tweens to teens. This particular sill reminds me that it is not the only sill, there are millions of kitchen window sills that hold hopes, dreams, desires, discontents, fears, anxieties, frustrations, and warm memories and moments of pure joy. It occurred to me that it is a sacred space, and generation after generation there are untold stories, and a beautiful narrative of life lessons, and families, marriages, and celebration and heartache. I am reminded it is a place in time, and I leave my sills, so that other families can create their own memories, and other moms can work in what was my sacred space and create their own alter of day to day family operations.
I picture that window sill at 132 Moncrief Road, and it brings comfort, confidence, and a sense of connection—while I am sure the space has changed, there will always be that place in time, that family that was raised, and that mother that loved her kids more than anything and did everything she could (despite her fears and anxieties) to raise 5 healthy, happy well-rounded children. Then my own sills. It’s been a freaking whirlwind. It is going too fast. I just had toddlers at my feet. I seized the moment at times but rushed through it too. The sill now holds a precious space and time. I will never get this back. I need to be present at my sill. I need to be grateful at my sill. I need to be peaceful at my sill. It’s okay if I am a bitch at my sill. I also need to accept the part of me that is afraid, that likes time alone, that feels every emotion, both the good and the bad. Some days are easy and I look out the window (sill) with wonder, peace and pure love for the beauty in my life. Other times, I bitch about the dirty dishes, or the craziness of the day, or the list of things to do, that I miss out on the view, the season smiling back at me and saying, “you’ve got this”!
The kitchen windowsill is a magical place—it connects generations upon generations and holds the hopes, dreams, fears and doubts of Moms and families. While it shows us the seasons each year, it really shows us the seasons in our lives, and that they all matter, the good, the bad, the sad and the meaningful ones. This sill in particular holds immense feelings, and this beautiful wreath celebrates the gift of motherhood, sisterhood and that we are all connected and it is one circle of life. The kitchen windowsill, know it is sacred, know it is magical, and lean in with your feelings, but be sure to see past the pile of dirty dishes, and look out the window at the beauty and wonder of your life. XO.
Side Note: for those of you old enough to remember, one of my favorite shows growing up was “Eight Is Enough”, and I loved how the opening song included “the kitchen windowsill”, I loved that show and that Nicholas!