And so the day ends with a few small kitchen chores…drying a few dishes, wiping the crumbs from the cabinet space near the toaster, and popping lids back on spice bottles and almond cans. While putting away some extra-large salad bowls in the cabinet beneath the candles, I met with some obstacles – a messy and out of order condition within the cupboard that kept me from stacking an oversized red bowl. I decided that “now” was a good time to straighten it up a bit. I reached in to take out everything (just a soon wipe the shelf down while reorganizing) and saw something from long ago in the corner. It was a juicer – not one like my mom used, the glass one that required squeezing an orange over its pointed protrusion, this one was electric – simple, but electric; it was mine.
I instantly thought of summer days long ago when boredom was lurking and kids were little and twitchy as the minutes sometimes crawled. Luckily, I kept a few things in my bag of tricks to cure monotony, one was the performance of this dutiful device. I’d take out a sack of oranges and this fancy juicer and some little fellows would take turns juicing. I had a little wooden stool to scoot up against the cabinet and their chucky little legs would hang from the seat as they had their turn turning navel oranges into a brew. The time passed, the orange juice, what was left, made it into the glass pitcher, the rinds to the compost and boredom dispersed.
When I saw that old appliance in the corner of the cupboard, I went back “there” so quickly. Back to a summer afternoon with little boys looking for something to do and the solution being so simple – just a distraction to reroute the afternoon.
Now, a professional Vita Mixer has a place of honor on my kitchen cabinet and every morning Elizabeth and I make green smoothies and when we really get ambitious about juice, another commercial appliance is taken from the cabinet over the stove. While oranges and kiwis go into the big and powerful Vita Mixer and a glass of very nutritious juice suddenly appears, the journey is not key here – there will be no moments to remember, just juice to drink. There is no lifting little boys up on wooden stools to reach the old juicer that mesmerized and entertained on a long summer afternoon in the country. It now sits still in a dark corner of my kitchen cabinet hardly remembered and never used but it has had many a vessel filled with delicious OJ and a simple life filled purpose.