Copper Bottomed Memory

The department store's display of copper bottomed pans triggered memories of his childhood.

The paneled wall above the stove in his grandparents' kitchen had been covered with similar pots hanging from S shaped hooks.  The kitchen had been barely large enough to accomodate the basic appliances, but somehow room had been found for a small kitchen table. 

At holidays when the kitchen was a hubbub of people coming and going, the kitchen table had been an oasis. Set off to one side, pressed up against a window looking into a brick alley. the table was lit by a single light fixture dangling from the ceiling on a cord the color of cork.

He had sat at this table while stuffed turkeys were pulled from ovens, gravy was heated on the stove, and cranberry was pulled from the freezer. He watched his grandmother and grandfather execute an intricate waltz - each trying to be in two places at the same time while managing to avoid tangling their feet as they slid past one another in the limited space.

His job had been to make sure the hobgobblins didn't run off with the food as it was plated and staged on the table before being moved to the dining room. At least that what his grandmother had told him. And while he didn't really believe that was his job at all, he did wonder about what might be lurking in the back stairs that had at one time run into the kitchen before being walled off.