Judging from this 1956 stint at the kitchen sink, my desire to be a pleaser began pretty early in my little life. Busy making pies in the sandbox, pulling an egg out from under my indignant pet chicken, and feeding my baby dolls spoonfuls of my mother’s cold cream, early on I domesticated my inherent creative passions of art, song and words by rerouting them through the kitchen and molding them into the more practical application of homemaking.

I have no regrets of my long tour as Chief Cook and Bottle Washer. If I were given an opportunity to change my life, I wouldn’t do it. However, now an old woman, I struggle to fully accept that I no longer have anyone to feed.

Banging my pots and pans with my wooden spoons, maybe I can, with a great amount of joyful noise, beat a path out from the dark jungle of KP and into the bright sunlight of all the other things that I am.

I hope to find the answer before I head to the Social Security office next month.

4 comments on “Domesticated”

  1. I pray you find the answer, as well. You are a beautiful multi-talented soul. 😘

  2. You are ANYTHING but an old woman–Social Security notwithstanding! I’m looking forward to your next visit–we can take turns feeding each other, or better yet, going out to eat and letting someone else feed us!!😊💕

    Sent from my iPhone


  3. Oh my…You serve with such style; love the 50’s fashion! I wish you joy and surprises on your journey of exploration. I look forward to your next entry:-)

  4. Susan, you are a writer and artist from your heart. I value your sincerity beyond a million others. Your life is so much more than a SS check. I wish we could cook, paint & write together, or at least closer. Your spirit is the kind I fashion my own after.

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