Kitchen secrets

It was a very special kitchen. The heart of the place, of course, as kitchens often are. But the heart in this case had a name and it was Agneta. Agneta was the much-loved cook in the preschool/day care where I was a preschool teacher. It wasn’t just the kitchen that was special; the preschool in itself was too. It was located in an apartment, the staff was four people including Agneta, taking care of only ten children. As a lot of those children were siblings, the total amount of households involved was often only five or six. We really were like one big family, and we liked parent-teacher conferences so much that we scheduled them once a month! Then we all got together for a fika (a sit down coffee with a little something), talked about the children and their activities and enjoyed each other! Sounds like paradise? Yes, it truly was and I am carrying those children and their parents close to my heart.

As the kitchen wasn’t away in the back somewhere but right in the middle of everything, it was a hang out. The children loved being close to Agneta preparing the meals, and the emergencies and daily big decisions, which are continuously happening at a preschool, were all taken care of in the kitchen. And it would be very interesting knowing how many hours during those ten years Agneta and I worked together we chatted away between breakfast porridge, lunch meat loafs and afternoon snacks.

I have been keeping a journal since I was thirteen, writing every single day. I remember telling Agneta that if I died, I wanted my journals to stay with her. That’s how much I trusted her. And, of course, she already knew what was in those journals. All my special secrets told to a very special friend.

We shared everything, Agneta and I. What those walls in that kitchen didn’t hear in those ten years didn’t happen. Then I moved on. Trouble & Trouble were born and I became an overworked journalist and we kind of lost track of each other. A couple of years ago we reunited on Facebook, and in November last year we finally had a date planned. Then my back crashed, that damn Sunday morning. Lying in my bed not being able to move I started calling around for someone to help me, and the one that in an hour showed up like an angel fixing me breakfast was Agneta. We hadn’t seen each other in about twenty years, and there she was, in my kitchen!

It really was a moment. Boy, did we have some catching up to do, and yet it felt like we had never been apart! But what a waste of those twenty years of missed life together. I know this happens all the time, people’s lives take different routes and sometimes they are so jam-packed it seems like we don’t have time for even those who we love and enjoy.

Then again, our lives can bring us to places we didn’t know existed. We might be dropped off at stops we didn’t choose ourselves. They can be dark, scary and extremely lonely. It might be that we don’t have a lot of numbers to call when in need. And it might be that none of those numbers can make it to you. Or are even picking up. But that dark scary November Sunday morning Agneta’s familiar comforting voice answered my call. And came rescued me. She really did.

Now, I’m not a cook. I really suck and I don’t like it. I admire and envy anyone who can fix just anything in a kitchen. I have this special granola I’m making though. It’s stuffed with nuts, seeds, ginger, cardamom, coconut flakes and goji berries and I am roasting it in the oven. I am making three batches at a time to secure my breakfast for more than a month, it’s a lot of work and it takes like an afternoon to get it all done. And now of course, in my condition; impossible. I needed help. Today again, Agneta was my rescuer.

Here we were again, together in a kitchen. No children around this time though. Agneta actually had a limp from some temporarily knee problem making us feel a bit like little old ladies which is kind of funny as we both are unusually tall women. Together we got the granola done though, as the homely smell from the cardamom filled the room. Although being a cook, it turns out Agneta has never been mastering the granola, and I was very happy and proud that I could actually treat her with a recipe of my own! Ha!

One afternoon was enough for three granola batches but of course not for everything that was on our mind. It’s something very special reliving forgotten memories, laughing about now and then and just clicking into each others lives as natural as rain. More than twenty years later I was given the gift once again sharing what’s closest to my heart with Agneta. Who I trust completely. My journals could still stay with her. And of course, after today she already knows what’s in there. All the special secrets told to a very special friend.