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This poem came to me while sitting on the couch. From where I sat, I couldn't help but notice our cluttered refrigerator, covered mostly with items from school, plus the usual assortment of bills and upcoming appointments. While sitting there, I started thinking back to when I was a kid and what kind of things my own mother must have put on the refrigerator. Just the thought made me shutter, being 1 of 11 kids, there must have been a mountain of keepsakes and momentos that came and went from that old "Fridge" of ours. I couldn't begin to imagine how many precious treasures were lost forever, to remind us of those long ago days. The refrigerator is like an oversized scrapbook of our lives that is constantly changing. A simple metal box, it's interior supplying food for the body, the exterior supplying food for the soul. Before writing this poem, to satisfy my own curiosity, I walked over and counted the magnets on our refrigerator. To my surprise there were 64 magnets, most of them busy doing what they do best. |
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