The struggle is real. What’s on my fridge? Not in my fridge, which is nothing. Actually, I do have six gallons of water occupying its shelves, which makes my refrigerator act as if it has food. And in the back lower corner is a lonely box of baking soda making only the plastic smell fresh. But these are on the inside; I’m struggling to understand what’s on the outside.

For beginnings, what is up with the blue bunny sticker that has a dog sitting in its belly? Did the bunny eat a dog? Must be one big bunny. Hey, can I eat that?

Of course, there is my friend’s kid’s art. I think the “kid” might be in college now, but we are too afraid to remove the “fine art from the fridge” for fear it is synonymous to some voodoo-doll-type murder.

Now I come to the “too good to be true” La-La nail files. Colored glitter green and righteous red sparkle, dear me, just awe-inspiring and hard to choose which to accent my next faux-drag outfit with—La, de, la, la—Laaaaaa!

Lists! Why—why are they on every fridge I have ever lived in company with? Lists of do’s, lists of don’t’s, lists of better do this, instead of that. Indubitably I need my lists and my lists need me!

I am forever fascinated with time and our magnificent worlds of life; how we all turn, burn, and return…answers wait to truly be found. Can there possibly be another Einstein?

I have a wonder woman magnet—only a best friend can give you this and honestly show his love by gushing out, “Because you are.”

A piece of white paper with specific lines and a G-cleft with no music written in, inspire him to create notes carried magically through the air—they are heard, are enjoyed and are written in one’s heart with no need of paper.

Every day, I hope: In all my days—not a one like this!

Verily, sometimes I come to my fridge and understand. Other days, life has a lot of bumps in the road. I try not to hit them all or I’ll need unthinkable alignment. The struggle is real.



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