Silent

Silent

Sometimes I feel like an appliance. Invisible and silent from everyday familiarity. Invisible to unseeing eyes.
Silent to deaf ears.
Expected to be efficient.
The refrigerator is anything but invisible.
It is big but who looks at it?
It hums constantly and loudly plops ice into the bin, but who hears it?
It efficiently keeps the milk and juices and cheeses and fruits and salad stuff cold.
The white wine cools on it’s side ready to be decanted into delicate crystal.
The ice pops through the opening in the door into the waiting glass.
Filtered water drowns the cubes and it’s on its way to consumption.
The ice cream is always frozen.
All is so ordinary.
Everyday ordinary.
No one notices the ordinary.
Just like me, it’s doing what is expected.
Maybe not always seen - maybe not always heard - maybe taken for granted.
Until it breaks down.
The milk curdles.
The ice cream puddles.
The droning stops.
It becomes deadly silent - but not invisible.
Who will clean the mess?
Who will call the repairman?
Who will restock the food?
Who is so efficient - like a working refrigerator?