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Bubby's Kitchen Chair

Ages 6-9 | Story and 9 activities

Every Friday afternoon, Gitty walks to Bubby's house. It is only three blocks away. She knows the way by heart: past the blue mailbox, past the corner with the big oak tree, and up the steps with the chipped paint.

Inside, the kitchen always smells of chicken soup and challah. Bubby wears her flowered apron and her purple tichel. There is always a warm roll waiting on a small plate.

And there is Gitty's chair. It is a little wooden chair with a red cushion, right next to the stove. Gitty sits there while Bubby stirs and tells stories about when she was a girl.

But this Friday, the house is empty.

Bubby moved last week. Her knees hurt too much for all the stairs, so she has gone to live in a small apartment in a different city, closer to Aunt Leah. It will take two hours to drive there.

Gitty stands at the foot of the steps with her backpack on and her bottom lip trembling. Her mother has brought her to say goodbye to the house. A big truck is loading the last of the furniture.

Inside, the kitchen is bare. The stove is still there, and the counter. But the soup smell is gone. The only thing left in the whole room is the little wooden chair.

"Bubby said you should take it," says Gitty's mother softly. "It's yours now."

Gitty runs her hand over the red cushion. Her throat feels scratchy. She feels two things at once, and they don't fit together.

She feels sad. So sad. She wants to cry and cry. She wants to stamp her foot and say, "I don't want Bubby to move!"

But she also feels a little bit happy. Bubby's knees will stop hurting. Bubby will be near Aunt Leah and the new baby. Bubby has said, "I'll have a new kitchen with a big window, and you can visit and see all the birds."

"I don't understand," Gitty whispers. "How can I feel sad and happy at the same time?"

Her mother sits on the floor next to her. "It's a very good question."

"Does it mean something is wrong with me?"

"No. It means you have a big heart with lots of room. Sometimes a heart holds more than one feeling at once. You can miss Bubby very much and also be glad that she's comfortable. Both are true."

Gitty thinks about that. Her tummy hurts, but in a soft way, not a sharp way. "Both are true," she repeats.

"Do you want to tell Bubby how you feel?" asks her mother.

Gitty nods. That Sunday, they go to see Bubby in her new place. Gitty tells her, "I miss you so much. And I'm happy about your new place. It's weird to feel both."

Bubby's voice is warm and a little wobbly. "I feel both too, sweet pea. I miss my old kitchen and your visits every Friday. And I'm excited about the new window. A heart can be both."

"Can I still come on Fridays?" asks Gitty.

"Of course. Maybe every other Friday, in the car with Mommy. And in between, we can send pictures. Or make a plan: when you eat your Friday roll, I'll eat mine, and we'll both think of each other."

The next Friday, Gitty carries the little wooden chair to her own kitchen and puts it by the table. At sundown, she sits on it with a warm roll in her hand.

She thinks of Bubby. A little wave of sadness rolls over her. She lets it come. She breathes slowly.

Then she thinks of Bubby's new window and the birds out there. She pictures Bubby holding her own roll, looking at them. Gitty smiles and takes a bite.