There are things in life that we just don't want to address. There are truths that we know we have to come to terms with eventually, but tell ourselves we'll wait until later, wait until tomorrow, wait until we have more time.
Until, until, until.
It's like those mysterious tupperware containers in the back of my refrigerator. They've been there for a while, sitting and waiting in the back for me to reach in and take a chance on them. And I've been thinking about them, too, every time I open that refrigerator door and see their silhouettes slanted against the carton of milk, and the orange juice and the loaf of bread.
Each time I open the door the smell gets a little bit stronger, gets a little bit worse - but I tell myself that they're still good, that I shouldn't throw them away just yet.
So I wait. And day in and day out the door opens and shuts, the light goes on and off and there they are - just waiting for me to take a chance on them. I don't know why I keep waiting for later or tomorrow or until I have more time just to clean out the fridge. And now, because I didn't want to face the problem head on, it only got worse. I foolishly didn't deal with it right then and there when I knew the truth about how those mysterious containters of greening pasta and greying vegetables were never going to amount to much.
I could have easily just thrown it all away and started fresh. That's what I should have done. But we're accustomed to holding on to the smallest and most ordinary of things and making them feel like they're worth so much more. And it's all just a waste. All of it. Keeping things thermally insulated doesn't always protect them, making them numb doesn't always make them go away.
And it's not until, until, until you can barely breathe when you open the door do you realize that there are some truths in life you can only avoid for so long.
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