I don't know exactly what was going on or anything, but I had the strangest feeling, and all of a sudden, my mind was transferred back to our old kitchen in our old house in California. The one my parents bought before they divorced. It was peach colored and had some sort of pretty valance for the kitchen window. The ground was a weird type of red brick, if I recall correctly. I cannot remember the color of the counters, but I know they were not tile, they were beige-ish, I believe. We had a portable dishwasher and a huge ass microwave. There were many times in that kitchen I would remember my dad preparing dinner, and it was usually something I detested and did not look forward to. I was a very picky eater as a child.
Anyhow, this weird feeling had me standing at the sink looking at the window, remembering the color of the kitchen and the valance on the window. Remembering the door to my left that lead to the garage. Remembering that glass-topped dining table we used to have that survived even the fire that hit us later on.
Kind of makes me sad, but brought back some memories. Making homemade apple pies with my dad- we used to have a plum and apple tree in the back. I even recall a time where I was making a homemade pizza with my father, and he used the F word, and I blurted out, "Ooh! You said F***!" and both of my parents started laughing. I had to have been about my own daughter's age.
Sometimes I wish I could just go back!