Things My Wine Tells Me

Nothing was there for me like my Wine. Wine stained my lips.

I had no friends, but I had Wine.

Wine was my friend when I was sad. She was there to comfort me when I had no one else to just listen to me. I would reach my hand out for a friend, a listener, I would cry out for help. And the only thing that reached back was my own empty echo.

But when I called out for Wine, Wine answered. Wine answered without fail.

Many people don't "care" for wine. They don't "like" the way wine "tastes." But that's just because they don't know Wine. They know wine.

They don't realize that Wine is not like a fruity cocktail or a colorful meal. It's not about how your taste buds initially react when they come in contact with Wine. It's supposed to be bitter. It's supposed to be warm. Does anyone really think Ernest and Julio tasted the Wine and said, "Sweet as sugar! Just how the taste buds like it!" and that they are just clueless to how it really actually tastes?

Because it's not about the taste, or at least not the taste alone. It's about the feeling. How does Wine make you feel? It's about the relaxation of the smell. The way your body settles into the warm inviting smell of the Wine. It's about what Wine makes you see. How does the world look to you when the Wine glides in between your lips and trickles past your tongue into your body? Wine is so much more than a food, or a drink. Wine is something that pleasantly effects all of your senses, if you can be in tune enough with your Wine to let it.

My Wine was so good, it made me feel light when the world had its anchors wrapped around my knees. She made me feel freedom and helped me to see clearly when the world was trying to suffocate me under its cold dark cages.

And Wine told me things.

Wine told me that everything was always sure to turn out wonderfully.
She told me that everything I ate, no matter what it was, was spectacular.
Wine said that there was nothing to worry about.
Wine said "Write!"
Wine whispered things in other languages and told me to say them out loud.

Wine assured me that I was funny. I was smart. I could write.
Wine told me things I didn't believe unless she told me it was so.

Wine also pointed out how ugly I could be. Every time I met eyes with a mirror, Wine stood behind me, and pointed out every line, every mark, every wrinkle on my face. She screamed furiously about the dark circles under my eyes, the crooked way my mouth hung open, or the huge difference in size between my right eye and my left. There was never once a doubt about it, Wine was the beautiful one, I was the ugly.

As a waitress in a fine dining restaurant, I was able to witness firsthand plenty of the public having their conversations with Wine. It was an interesting to show to watch. Wine was a woman of many secrets, many lies, and many things to say.

She told some people that they were important.
Some were told they were beautiful, or that others around them were beautiful.
Some people were reminded of their disgraceful skeletons.
She told some people that they were brave and brilliant, and she made a lot of people
think that they were using their inside voices.

Many times I would snarl inside at Wine as I watched all the lies she told people.
Not because it was wrong to tell people lies, but because the lies people were told
made them annoying.

It made them loud, sad, blunt, excited, sleepy, woozy, unaware of the time, and just
plainly difficult to be around. I wonder if this is how people saw me when I would have
conversations with My Wine.

It seems to me that Wine is filled with truth, but full of lies. Wine makes your vision and your perception so fuzzy, but in a way, you have never felt more balanced or more clear. Wine can allow you to sink deeply into any thought, any idea, any conversation at any place. Wine allows you to be present in the moment you are in. It stops you from wandering into the future or drowning in the past and just lets you be. Wine is your escape. Wine is your sanctuary. Wine is your refuge, your friend, your writing buddy, your teacher, your clarity. And sometimes Wine is just there to sing you a lullaby and rock you to sleep.