The Heart of the Home

This morning, I was standing in front of our refrigerator hoping it would answer the eternal question: “What should I make for dinner?” My fridge and I do this every morning. It never answers me, but I keep hoping.

As I was debating the merits of tacos versus spaghetti, it hit me. I love our fridge. Don’t get me wrong – it’s no showpiece. It’s old; there’s a good chance it’s older than me. It’s definitely not stainless. Heck, it doesn’t even make its own ice. Yet, there it is – I love it. Our fridge is a family fridge. It’s covered in magnets of letters and numbers that my son, Linc, loves to move around, and throw on the floor. It currently has three birth announcements on it and four invitations to one-year-old birthday parties. There, clipped on the side, is the Gymboree brochure that outlines the schedule of classes. Two Jet’s pizza magnets remind me of the first few months after Lincoln’s birth when ordering pizza was the most I could muster up for dinnertime.

People say the kitchen is the heart of the home; if that’s the case, our fridge is the heart of the kitchen. When I look at those birthday party invitations, I’m reminded of all of the friends I’ve made in the last year and how lucky Linc and I are to have met such a great circle of friends. The never ending to-do list of house projects reminds me of how lucky I am to have a home, even with its circa 1978 ceiling fans. Photo strips of my mom, sister, and I from the movies make me smile every time I look at them – proof that every once in awhile I make it out of the house without my boy!

The next time I’m walking through Lowe’s and start to get “appliance envy”, I’ll picture my old, sticky, family fridge, with its pictures, magnets, reminders of doctor appointments, and to-do lists, and I’ll be thankful for it. It may not have an ice-maker, but it does have one really, really special feature. See for yourself!