A House Of Love

     Aunt Ida's house was always warm and welcoming.  As soon as I was allowed to take  my bicycle off our block, I'd whiz the six streets to Aunt Ida's. As my legs pumped rapidly up and down, my heart sang. Her house was a place of refuge for me.

     From the minute I entered her back door and climbed the three steps up to her kitchen, I knew I was with someone who loved me. She didn't expect anything from me. I just felt secure.

     There was always a tender hug and a kiss, and an offer of something to eat. A pot of some sort of soup or stew forever bubbled on the stove. Her kitchen smelled like love should smell – delicious and comforting.

     If nothing else, Aunt Ida was predictable. Her kitchen was the heart of her home. Sunny, yellow polka dot curtains hung at spotlessly clean windows. A large breakfast nook was the place to sit and munch fresh baked cookies with frosty milk in oversized glasses. From the comfort of padded wooden chairs you looked out on a small but well kept garden.

     I remember I was nine years old and I had just seen Shirley Temple in the movie “Heidi”. I had raced over to Aunt Ida's  to tell her about the wondrous chunk of yellow cheese that Heidi had toasted golden brown over an open fire.

     “It was hard and crusty on the outside, but inside it was all soft and warm,” I explained.

      A twinkle lit Aunt Ida's eyes.

     “Really? I just happen to have a chunk of cheddar cheese and some fresh baked bread.”

     Did she mean what I thought and hoped? Could we really melt cheese right there in the kitchen? As though in answer to my unasked question, Aunt Ida produced a large, two-pronged fork and a brick of hard, yellow cheese. I could feel my mouth watering. I licked my lips in eager anticipation.

     Aunt Ida jammed the cheese on the fork, lit the front gas burner on her immaculate stove, and handed me the fork.

     “You heat this while I put out the bread and butter.”

     Maybe I wasn't at an open campfire in the middle of a green forest, but Heidi had nothing on me. I held the cheese over the flame. I could already taste its warm, soft goodness.

     The cheese started to char and little yellow bubbles exploded to the surface. I could even smell them. I turned to let Aunt Ida know it was almost ready. Suddenly there was a thud and sparks flew from the burner. I stared in horror as my beautiful chunk of golden cheese splattered all over the immaculate stove top.

     Quickly, Aunt Ida was by my side. She shut off the burner and shook her head. Gooey melted cheese had oozed over the burner and white porcelain stove top. It was a yukky mess, and I held my breath waiting for Aunt Ida to yell at me. I peeked at her out of the corner of my eye. She was laughing.

     “Audrey, love”, she chuckled, still shaking her head. “From now on you'd better leave this kind of cheese melting to Heidi.”

     I helped her clean up the mess, totally disillusioned with movie magic. Heidi's cheese must have been phony not to fall apart. And I was overwhelmed with love for this gray-haired, stout lady who took it all in stride with never a harsh word.