I’ve never pondered about this before, but the most treasured object in my house is my fridge. It is literally the source of life. It is a white stainless steel refrigerator that my family has been utilizing for the last 5-ish years. It is about 5’4” tall. I used to be shorter than it, but then puberty hit and now I’m a whole head taller than it. It is decorated full of magnets from all the various states than my dad has been in, as well as family pictures. In the freezer there are my beloved dumplings, meat, and vodka that my dad drinks when he comes home. In the fridge itself, there are fruits, vegetables, a meal my mother cooked for a given day, eggs, milk, kompot, cake, beans, and then that one infamous bottle of soy sauce that I bought that one time to make gyudon and never touched since, as well as many other friends.
I love checking out the fridge when I come home late at night hungry. It always patiently waits for me there. It never lets me down. I cherish every time I open it every once in a while when I’m bored as if the food is going to miraculously appear in there. It is said that ancient civilizations have all been developed near a riverbank, but I would argue that modern world is built around the fridge.