Dear Refrigerator

Dear Refrigerator,

After a year of living with us and providing us with COOL, we have finally reached the sad day in which we must part. When we first met you, you were tall and strong, and we were happy that you were around. We cheerfully decorated you with pictures, magnets, and word-poetry. We thankfully packed our milk, our lunch meat, and our fruit into your cool bottom compartment, and stacked our hamburgers, popsicles, and ice-cubes into your frozen upper compartment. Soon we learned how your over-zealous attempts to cool our food would often freeze our lettuce and turn our juice jug into a giant un-drinkable popsicle. I did not keep track of how many heads of lettuce met their frozen end in your icy embrace.

Day and night, you kept your trusty motor running. In fact, you were so hard-working that you only took a break for a few minutes every day. You faithfully extracted water from the air and collected it on your refrigerator floor, where the cold pool would slowly leak out your door, toward the kitchen wall and even sometimes all the way into the basement. We never had you diagnosed, but I sometimes wondered if you thought you were a dehumidifier instead of a fridge. You worked so hard at trying to being a dehumidifier that you did not feel the pain of the rust which resulted along your side from the constant stream of water you released.

Perhaps it was because your door would not close properly, or perhaps it was from the stress of your door swinging open harder than you could handle, but when we moved you, it appears you had been overworked at some point or another. The large burn mark left on the linoleum remains for us as a reminder of your dedication and perseverance as an appliance in our household, and we will always remember you for it.

We hope that the Great Refrigerator Round-Up people treat you with all the dignity and respect that you deserve. The house is just not the same without your loud, constant humming, and we certainly notice the loss of your presence.

Sincerely,

Your old family