There comes a day in every newly married couple’s life when they look around their kitchen and realize it’s less of a functional workspace and more of a museum, curated by generations of indecision. That day, my friends, arrived yesterday.
It began innocently enough with a sponge and good intentions. But before I knew it, I was elbow-deep in The Great Kitchen Purge of 2025.
Let’s start with the elephant in the cupboard, Grammie’s dishes. These weren’t museum quality or one of a kind. They are mid-1900s adorable, and I’ve cared for them most of my adult life. For 50 years, not one plate has been used, not one saucer chipped. Every time I open that cupboard, I can practically hear her whisper, “You might need those for company, Honey.”
Keeping a set for four, because I just couldn’t let them go, I packed the rest, lovingly wrapped, but finally released. Grammie will approve of them finding a new home where they’ll see a Thanksgiving dinner once again again.
Then came the utensil drawer. I found three ceramic knives in a variety of colors, two rusted paintbrushes that had seen their last rack of baby-backs, and a John Wayne coffee cup. Add to that a variety of this and that, taking up valuable shelf space.
Into the spring yard sale box they went, a small moment of victory for functionality. I even matched my lids to my plastic containers. That alone felt like solving a great domestic mystery.
Today, I’ll face The Fridge that hasn’t moved in six years, which, in “kitchen time” is roughly a century. It’ll take bravery, leverage, and possibly a prayer to slide it away from the wall. Behind it? I’m expecting to find generations of dust bunnies the size of tumbleweeds, one petrified green bean, a button from a long-lost sweater, and what may have once been a Cheerio.
Once cleaned, I’ll stand back and admire the glistening floor as if it’s a truly historic moment.
As the afternoon rolled on, boxes filled with duplicates, odds and ends, and memories. There’s something surprisingly freeing about saying, “No, I do not need two juicers or a Lake Tahoe coffee cup, never used.” Everything with life left in it was boxed and labeled for the spring yard sale, our future “Winterpast clearance event.”
By sunset, our cupboards were organized, drawers closed easily, and the countertops gleamed. The kitchen looked lighter, somehow, as if it, too, could breathe again. This morning, sipping steaming coffee in a mug I actually love, I feel a little proud, a little nostalgic, and a lot more ready to cook something yummy.
Sometimes, the best way to freshen up your life isn’t by buying something new — it’s by finally letting go of what no longer serves you.
And so…….
Old dishes rest, their duty done,
Held through decades, every one.
Utensils chipped and gadgets bent,
Each a relic of good intent.
I bless them all and set them free,
To kitchens yet to come, not me.
For in the space now clean and wide,
I find a little peace inside.
Less clutter, more calm, the lesson is clear —
It’s amazing what shines when the old disappears.
