My mother isn't a big fan of the science fiction genre. Oh, she'll go for gothic horror. Nothing better than a crafty vampire to grab her attention. But she's never really connected to sci-fi, one of my favorite subjects of film and literature.
And yet she owns a freezer.
I'm not talking about the bottom compartment of the fridge in her kitchen. This is a separate unit. All freezer, tucked away in a utility room downstairs where no one goes. And it has a lock on it.
Occasionally, when I'm over and she's preparing dinner for several people, she'll mysteriously announce: "I've got to get something from The Freezer." You can practically hear the capital letters. And she will vanish, only to reappear minutes later with a heavily wrapped cut of meat. Weirdly, sometimes it's a box of supermarket cupcakes. A dozen, still packed in a open-topped cardboard tray, shrink-wrapped in plastic. and then there are the Items That Time Forgot.
Thick-cut bacon from a brand I've never heard of.
Cans of Birds' Eye frozen orange juice concentrate.
Otter Pops.
They have no discernible expiration dates, these products summoned from the Deep Freeze of Mystery. And that's where my mom's recessive sci-fi gene comes into play. Clearly, she think The Freezer is some kind of suspended animation chamber. As if the foodstuffs packed inside are immune to the ravages of time. And that what was delicious and nutritious a generation ago has somehow retained its vibrancy these many years later.
When these things are resuscitated from the Ice Age that lives in my mom's freezer, she seems to be unaware of the strange changes that have befallen the items. Meat that has the barest trace of flavor. Frozen desserts that are nothing more now than colored chunks of ice. Bizarre discolorations that no amount of gravy or whipped cream can quite hide.
No one in the family has the heart to mention anything. I think because the amount of comestibles in the freezer represents such an investment in time and money on her part. I just hope that someone invents a time machine one of these days — I'd use it to go back to the 80's and tell her not to bother putting that stuff in the damned freezer.
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