By exclusively reading the title, you might be thinking to yourself, “Well, Hannah has officially lost it.”
And honestly, I felt a little like that when I first had the idea. But then I got to reflecting about how dependable my microwave has been through all my college moments. Maybe you can immediately relate to this—if not, that’s okay—or maybe you just need a micro-laugh. Either way, please enjoy this letter to something very valuable to me as part of National Microwave Oven Day on Dec. 6… just in time for final exams!
Dear Microwave,
I know you’re just a small oven, but I don’t think you get enough lovin’. You’re said to be something that just “nukes” food and that you’re not as effective as a conventional oven. And while that might have some validity, I think you’re small but mighty… just like me, and that’s just one of the many things I love about you.
You have been there for me through every rapid ramen consumption when I was cramming for a big test or working tirelessly on school projects. While that might not have been the most nutritious meal, you made it a consistent staple in my diet. I could always depend on you to feed me in dire circumstances. And while those “meals” may be super full of sodium, my studies would have suffered if you wouldn’t have been there to put something in my stomach.
You were there when I had very little ingredients in your companion—my mini fridge—and I was feeling bold. Neither of us were sure what kind of concoction I could make, but you persevered like a champ and produced something semi-edible. Thank you for always embracing my ingenuity, whether or not it was a foolish attempt. You inspire me to keep trying new things.
You were working hard the afternoon that I launched my school ID into the dumpster freshman year. I had come back from an interminably long day of classes, and all I wanted was some easy mac. When I returned from that (now hilariously) horrific event, you were waiting with my long-awaited food. In that moment, it felt like you were the only one I’d ever tell about that… until I broadcasted it everywhere in my article. The point is, while I was off being a dumb freshman, you outsmarted me and made what you knew would provide me the biggest comfort after my embarassment.
You provided me with instant popcorn that I enjoyed with friends. As corny as it is to say, those kernels you popped led to kernels of friendships that will last a lifetime in part because of your role in our hangouts. You heated up apple cider and coffee when I wanted to feel fall-ish without forking over money to go to coffee shops. You made pre-packaged, home cooked leftovers that I received after school breaks feel like I hadn’t left home at all. Even though I couldn’t eat those meals with my loved ones, you still gave me a little piece of home as I reheated those plates that filled my heart as well. And that was all because you did your job.
I guess, microwave oven, what I’m trying to say is that I love you. I love that through these moments in my life, you have functioned as a small, yet important part of it. You’ve given me sustenance, helped me bond with friends I’ll have for a lifetime and helped give me fuel to enjoy all college has to offer.
As I’ve grown up, I’ve started to need you less because I have a conventional oven as well in the apartment. But you have been an integral part of college for me, and you don’t get enough credit.
You may be a microwave, but you’ve had a macro-impact on my time in college. I appreciate you so much. Thanks for everything.
Sincerely,
Hannah
I hope reading this letter gave you a new appreciation for this appliance and showed how we could all give a little more lovin’ to our microwave ovens.
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