I am a Kitchen

I’m from air fryers,
From pizza scissors and spatulas.
I’m from beeping alarms, alerting everyone the dishwasher is done,
From blinding lights illuminating the house as you open the fridge at night.
I’m from the aloe vera plant in the windowsill,
Stretching eagerly towards the sun.
I’m from leftovers and penguin doodles on the pantry whiteboard,
From uneaten experiment dinners and long, boring days in the middle of July.
I’m from new family favorites,
From burnt pizza and overcooked fish.
I’m from crumbs on the counter,
From arguing over who needs to clean it up until we get bored and walk away.
I’m from “Start eating without me, I only have one more math problem,”
From banging on the walls calling everyone out of their rooms to come downstairs.
I am a Kitchen.