As I walk around this old beat up hutch 
that for years lived in my grandfather's cottage 
and before that it lived in his mother's home 
I wonder as I begin the task 
of stripping the seasons of painted layers 
which layer belongs to which generation? 




I can see where a flour bin once was 
and feel kinda sad 
for a generation took history outta this old hutch 
when they replaced it with a door. 



As each layer I slowly remove 
I try to picture the people before me 
who once stood before it. 



The millions of fingerprints that 
weathered its surface 
the thousands cuts of a knife 
embedded in its wooden top 
and the hundreds of pies 
that was rolled out with the old rolling pin.

 

So smooth it is 
this old hutch 
for time and love 
made it this way. 
as each generation added his/her loving touch.



I really am touched 
that I have this old hutch 
in my life now.

 

Running my fingers under the worn surface 
I can feel the years 
where an old crank meat grinder once held 
for so many little scarred holes it has left behind.

 

So old are the boards in the back 
for they must have turned black 
from smoke of the old cookstove 
and age 
has done its part. 



Many coats of paint 
lie upon these shelves 
that once held mismatched 
cups and plates 
for my great grandparents 
were just ordinary folks 
who didn't fancy 
matching sets of plates.

 

I think this is the hardest wood 
I ever came across 
for its almost impossible to 
pull out orphan nails and screws 
making me wonder 
what were their purpose 
in this old hutch.

 

Yes, I believe this hutch 
has been hardened by father time 
for the old screws that hold these hinges 
have worn smooth 
making it impossible to remove them.

 

So I leave them 
and peel layers of paint 
from them 
almost feels like a sacred piece of history 
I have within my hands.

 

I kinda get lost in time 
as I stop stripping its layers ... 
I travel back to its beginning 
of farm folks preparing a meal 
for back then countertops were never heard of 
so ingredients, utensils, cups and sauces 
are crowded on this very hutch 
in preparation of a family meal.

 

What a life 
this old hutch 
must have had 
and to think 
over a 100 years later 
its in my tender loving care.

 

So today, 
I'm taking it back to its birthright 
as I take layers of generations off 
back to the time of 
Great Grandma and Grandpa.

 

When I get it all back to what I believe is its true color 
I'll place an old crochet pot holder Great Grandma once made 
an old meat grinder in which I'll add my own hole under its ledge 
and I'll add my grandmothers chipped mismatched cups and plates 
tho I may be taking the layers of paint off from many generations 
I'm also putting back some treasures of generations 
I've been so blessed to be given. 



So old hutch 
it's just you and me 
for however long time will be 
and just maybe ... someday 
one of my daughters 
will someday take you 
under her loving wing 
just as I am doing now. 



Today as I stand here stripping its layers off 
and adding my own touch upon its wood 
I would love for my great grandchild 
to think of me as one generation 
who took it upon herself 
to love her 
Great-great-great Grandma Rachel's old Hutch.




Written by
Donna Graham
27 October 2003