1
In Mama's kitchen, in the middle of everything, there is an island.
Not an island with sea all around it — an island with breakfast all around it.
And standing at the island, tall and proud, are four stools.
2
Blue stools. Royal-blue stools. Velvet stools, soft as a cat's ear.
JJ counts them on his fingers, the way Mama taught him.
One. Two. Three. Four.
3
"One for me," says JJ, patting the first stool. "One for Mama. One for Daddy."
He looks at the fourth stool for a long, long time.
"Mama — who is the fourth stool for?"
4
Mama smiles the slow smile she keeps for big questions.
"Climb up, little prince," she says. "That is a talking question. And in this kitchen, the stools are for conversation."
5
It is Saturday morning, and Saturday morning means bakes.
Mama measures the flour. JJ does the important job: pat-pat-pat goes the dough under his hands, round and round, soft as a little moon.
6
Outside the window, the kiskadees are quarrelling about the mango tree, the way they do.
Under the island, three kitchen cats — Roti, Dhal, and Potato — take up their positions.
Just in case some flour should fall. A cat likes to be ready.
7
"Long ago and not so long ago," Mama begins, "Mama lived in a city far, far away. High up in a tall building, in a small-small kitchen."
"How small?" asks JJ.
"So small the pot and the kettle had to take turns."
8
"But every single evening, Mama cooked at her little island.
And every single evening, your Grandpa Rockcliff came and sat — right there — on a blue stool."
9
"Grandpa was an engineer. He drew lines on big blue paper, and buildings stood up where the lines had been."
"Like magic?" says JJ.
"Like homework," says Mama. "Magic is just homework nobody sees."
10
"And while I stirred the pot, Grandpa talked.
And while Grandpa talked, I stirred.
Roads, he built. Rivers, he crossed. Radio towers, tall-tall, that sing through the air. And me — he built me too."
11
"What did you talk about?" asks JJ.
"Everything," says Mama. "School and stars and how to be brave. The pot never minded.
A pot cooks sweeter with a story going. That is a true fact of kitchens."
12
"So when Mama built this kitchen, I put an island in the very middle.
And I found four stools — royal blue, Grandpa's colour.
For conversation, I said. And that was that."
13
JJ pats the fourth stool, soft as patting Bruno's head.
"So this one is Grandpa's seat."
"That one," says Mama, "is Grandpa's seat."
14
JJ is quiet for a little bit.
Then he asks, small-voiced: "But Mama… where is Grandpa?"
Mama wipes her hands on her apron, slow.
15
"Some people we keep in photographs," she says. "Some people we keep in stories.
Grandpa, we keep in conversation.
Every time we talk in this kitchen — really talk, sweet and true — Grandpa's conversation keeps going. It never stopped, my love. It just moved kitchens."
16
The bakes go into the pan. Sssss, says the oil, which is kitchen-talk for not long now.
And while they wait, Mama takes down the comb, because Saturday is also the day for JJ's hair.
17
"Grandpa had a saying," Mama says, working the comb gentle-gentle. "He told it to me, and now I tell it to you.
Comb your hair — there is more power in it than you believe."
18
"What does it mean?" asks JJ.
"It means you come from people, little prince. Strong people, clever people, people who loved you before they ever met you.
And when you take care of what they gave you — all their strength is right there, on top of your head."
19
JJ sits up very tall on his blue stool.
He can feel it. He is almost sure he can feel it.
20
The bakes puff up golden and proud, and the whole house smells like Saturday.
Daddy comes in following his nose, the way daddies do.
"Morning, morning," says Daddy. "Something smells like it needs my help."
21
Now three stools are full. Mama, Daddy, JJ.
They eat hot bakes and drink cocoa tea, and the cats below catch every crumb like little brown-and-grey goalkeepers.
But JJ keeps looking at the fourth stool.
22
Then JJ does something nobody taught him.
He turns to Grandpa's stool, polite as church, and says:
"Good morning, Grandpa. I will give you the news."
23
"This week I lost a tooth. A front one. I can whistle through the hole.
Bruno chased a lizard and the lizard won.
And Mama made bakes, and I did the pat-pat-pat, and they came out the best ones ever."
24
Mama goes very quiet.
Daddy goes very quiet.
Even the kiskadees outside hold their quarrel for a minute.
25
And here is the thing JJ noticed, and you will notice it too:
there were four stools, and only three people —
but the kitchen was full.
26
So now, every Saturday, that is how it goes in Mama's kitchen.
The flour. The pat-pat-pat. The comb and the saying. The cats on duty below.
And the news, told proper and true, to the royal-blue stool that keeps Grandpa's place.
27
"Mama," says JJ one Saturday, licking cocoa from his lip, "will the conversation ever finish?"
Mama smiles the slow smile.
"Little prince — a conversation, once it start sweet, does not ever have to end."
28
And it hasn't.
And it won't.
Pull up a stool.