The sun this morning is still bashful and has not yet greeted me with its warm fiery presence. Nevertheless, I am ready to get a jump start on a new day. I head down to my kitchen where I feel an energy of sorts persuading me to move a little closer to where my refrigerator has taken up permanent residency on a black and white checkerboard floor.
I am cautious before placing my ten unpolished toes onto this tiled area because I know this room hasn’t served my best purpose since being quarantined. With trepidation, I enter, because I know I am finally ready to face the truth no matter how unappealing it may be.
I quickly scan my surroundings and see that my dishwasher is quietly observing my every move. I personally have accused this appliance of snacking on my silverware on more than one occasion.
My eyes next dart to my Whirlpool refrigerator. I grab the elongated handle, open the door, and with the light shining brightly, I see what I am meant to see.
I have been bored and especially lonely since March 20th. Instead of resisting the temptation of consuming useless calories to fill a void, I have been overeating to simply satiate my ravenous appetite for companionship and life the way it once was. My unhealthy choices have led to an expanded waistline and jeans that no longer fit me in just a few short months.
I close the refrigerator door and I understand what needs to be done next. There is no time to waste. My kitchen and I will need to rebuild our relationship. Cheetos and orange stained finger tips will be a thing of the past as I relearn how to truly make my kitchen, “my friend”.
