I was in grade 10 when I first read Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto. At that time I have never truly thought about family or the deaths of the people surrounding me. At that time Kitchen was just simply a love story of a girl named Mikage, a girl who has a passion for all kind of kitchens in this entire world. After the death of her last relatives-the grandmother, Mikage was desperate until she accepted a neighbor’s invitation to move to their house. This is where she lived with a young man Yuichi and his gorgeous mother Eriko who works at the pubs. They had presented each other the sense of belonging until Mikage decided to move out because of her emotion for Yuichi and Eriko was stabbed in a lounge. The following days of their life were the journey of mending their spirits after the loss of their beloved ones. The story ended with a delightful ending when Yuichi decided that he would pick her up at the station when she came back. I have been asking myself day by day, where is my kitchen? To Mikage, it was her grandmother, the smell of the cuisine, the days fraught with affection with Eriko and her son. To Yuichi, the kitchen was his charming mother, a man who had undergone a sex-change operation to give him a true motherhood. To Eriko, the kitchen was her chosen to continue the old life of her wife, to
Didn’t have to taste it once, I already knew the flavor was so bland that every morning, I often got tired and broke off. But at that moment, a slim ray ran through my heart. It reminded me of a small detail that my grandfather had passed away eating salty food for his whole life which led to a stroke. Since then my mom always makes unsalted food without any explanation. The moment I realized it, a feeling of being cherished immediately embraced my mild. Nowhere in this world could anyone else would make a bland breakfast for me just because they care about my