You peel each roll of old wallpaper from the walls, marveling at how years of history unravel as you help the kitchen shed its skin.  There goes the thirty-year-old wallpaper, equal parts vinyl and cooking smells and the glue that held it in place for so long.  There goes the cheerful blue and white backdrop to so many family dinners, so many evenings spent learning how to cook or roll out flour tortillas with your mom's wooden rolling pin.  There goes the kitchen of early childhood.

In its place is new life.  The walls are cleaned of glue; the kitchen grows lighter and brighter with each new coat of Venetian plaster.  These are new memories being made.  Together we let old versions of our family fade to leave room for continued abundance, renewed joy.  On goes the butter-cream plaster to the walls, just as if new life is brought into the family.

The kitchen, in the home as old as you are, is the epicenter of your family life.  It is the place of Sunday night dinner and holiday gatherings, afternoon tea and summer grilling.  You meditate on this as you help wipe down the walls--a daunting task that must be done before the plaster goes up.  Together you and your mother reinvent this space, you open it up to light.  Already you can imagine the celebratory feast your family will have to celebrate this new era of family life.