A love note to frozen dinners.

Dear frozen dinners,

No one’s been there for me like you have. A night typing away at my laptop and the tummy starts to grumble. I’m either almost done with work or nowhere close. Either way, this hunger is a nuisance that will only worsen until I resolve it.

Bowl of cereal?

Piece of bread?

The yogurt I hope isn’t expired in the fridge?

What will satisfy this inconvenient hunger of my poor body demanding yet another meal?

I contemplate. I grumble.

But then, I remember you. Beside a half-eaten pint of ice cream and a bag of peas I swore I had big plans for when I threw it in my shopping cart eight months ago, there you sit. Waiting, wishing, hoping for the night I’d preheat the oven and retrieve you from the cold.

Tonight’s the night you come to my rescue again, faithful friend.

Thank you for keeping me alive.