I might look like an ordinary bag of peas, but don’t let my appearance fool you.
I’m Lee’s peas... and I’m special.
I live in Lee’s freezer. Believe it or not, I’ve been here for sixteen years.
I’ve moved around a bit — from the front to the back to the door of the fridge — but my address has stayed the same.
I’ve outlasted Christmas hams, TV dinners, and more than two hundred containers of Neapolitan ice cream. I know — I counted. I’ve remained, even as the freezer I live in failed and had to be replaced.
Of the trillions of bags of frozen vegetables produced in this whole wide world, I am the only one that has lasted this long.
I don’t know why I was chosen, but I can tell you with confidence: I’m here to stay.
I will never be a side for your steak and potatoes.
I will never join your macaroni in a last minute casserole.
I will never be your family’s ammunition in your post-Thanksgiving food fight.
My bag is old, but it has never been punctured, ripped, or cut. It is battered, but whole.
The ink on my white plastic bag has worn a bit, but I’m not hard to identify. “DO NOT EAT” is written in thick black magic marker on my front and back. It is my badge of honor.
I may be old, but I’m a celebrity, at least as far as local bags of frozen vegetables are concerned. I’m the Wayne Newton of the freezer section. That newfangled riced cauliflower’s got nothing on me.
Why am I special?
Because I have something the rest don’t have: A non-culinary purpose. You see, I am a first responder.
I am Lee’s peas, and I help injured people. (I call them my “pea-ple.”)
I willingly and proudly care for all who cross Lee’s threshold. I have comforted children, the elderly, and everyone in between.
When you bump your toe on the coffee table, I am there for you.
When you wake up with a hangover headache, I will be there.
When you have your wisdom teeth pulled, I’ve got you covered.
I am better than the average ice pack.
I am not rigid. The contents of my bag are tiny frozen ball bearings plying sore spots with relief, surrounding every appendage with cooling comfort.
I am not filled with water or gel. When you fall asleep on the couch with me on your face, I won’t “pea” all over your throw pillows.
I don’t take long to get cold again. When you’re feeling better, put me back in Lee’s freezer and I’ll be ready to go again in just a few hours.
Can every ice pack say the same? (That is a rhetorical question, of course. Ice packs can’t speak!)
Say what you will — that my mission is too much for one bag of peas to handle alone — but I have answered the call to serve thousands of times.
I am Lee’s peas… and I’m proud to be at your service.
Esther Hofknecht Curtis, MSM-HCA is a freelance writer living in Dover, Delaware. Follow her on Facebook — go to https://www.facebook.com/TheArdentReader19977/