Yhem Speaks

Yesterday afternoon after doing online church service, I was hungry and craving plantains. I already knew I didn’t have any at home because I had checked earlier in the day. In fact, I remembered clearly opening the fridge that morning and seeing the same lineup of things that had been sitting there all week: eggs minding their business, a small container of stew doing its best to survive another day, fresh vegetables ready to be eaten, and bottles of water and juice that somehow always look the most confident in the fridge. There were definitely no plantains. But tell me why I still walked back to the fridge to check again 😂.
I opened it slowly, like someone expecting a surprise party. Maybe I had missed something earlier. Maybe the plantains were hiding behind something, or the fridge had decided to cooperate with my cravings for once. I keep doubting myself. I stood there looking carefully, moving one or two things aside like an investigator searching for evidence. It was just the same eggs, the same stew, the same water and juice, and the same vegetables looking at me like they had nothing to do with the situation.

I closed the fridge, walked away, and for a moment I told myself to accept reality. There were no plantains in the house. That should have been the end of the story.
Somehow, about thirty minutes later, I found myself back in the kitchen again 😂.
Now, tell me something honestly why do we do this as adults? Why do we keep opening the fridge like something inside has changed when we know very well that we are the same people who bought the groceries and arranged everything inside? It’s not like the fridge is a small supermarket that restocks itself while we are watching television, relaxing or doing other house chores.
Yet there we are, opening the door again like maybe something new has appeared.
The funny thing is that sometimes we’re not even hungry anymore. We’re just wandering around the house, slightly bored, slightly restless, and somehow the fridge becomes the most interesting place in the house.

So, back to to my story. In the kitchen, I went straight to the fridge again and opened it gently. Staring at everything carefully, moving things from one shelf to another, hoping that maybe it has quietly worked some kind of miracle since the last time I checked. But there it is again, nothing has changed.

The fridge is not a magician but I still stand there lost in my imagination.
Maybe the stew can stretch a little further.
Maybe I can fry the eggs instead.
Maybe something inside here can suddenly become the plantains I was hoping for.
Being grown comes with many responsibilities, but one thing nobody warns you about is how often someone can end up negotiating with their fridge. I look at mine like it owes me solutions, as if it should somehow know what I am craving and provide it on demand. Sometimes, the act of opening it feels more comforting than actually expecting something new. It’s like checking for possibilities even when I know the possibilities are limited. I look, sigh a little, close the door and walk away again. Then, when someone else in the house behaves like me, I suddenly become the expert. “What you are craving is not there,” I say confidently. Meanwhile, I have checked it three times already.

Yesterday the plantains never appeared. The fridge remained loyal to the same things it had been holding all day. Nothing new. Just the reminder that if I really wanted plantains, I should have bought them earlier.
However, knowing that still didn’t stop me from checking one more time before the evening ended just in case.

Surely, I’m not the only person negotiating with the fridge like this😂.

With Stories Always,

Yhem💞