Wine and Ghosts

And so on that cool August evening, she decided to have that extra glass of red wine. The one she knew she probably didn't need. It helped though. It helped soothe the ghosts that pulled up chairs and sat comfortably in her mind.

It helped.

It tamed the loves that had come and gone and come and gone again and with each taste she swallowed them off and away to a place where they were irrelevant and love was just a shadow that moved and dodged her with the setting of the sun.

It tamed.

With each taste upon her lips and tongue, the blues she craved went through her hair, kissed her ears and warmed her soul as it brought a kindness back to her and tingled through her very core. It was a subtle, gentle numbness that quieted the screams.

It brought a kindness.

That sweet red wine. She typed her thoughts while her favorite song of the moment swooned "Aged and Mellow..." Oh that Catherine Russell- she sang like wine. And the keyboard became piano keys and her thoughts just fell from her fingertips. The sun played its part as well. Why couldn't it hang there- just in that place in the sky where it casts its gloaming and softly licks the ambiance of what will never be. If the sun could just hang in that one particular spot and keep the gloaming across the trees and her eyes.. If......

"That wine," she typed, "... it has been the most faithful, sensual, and devoted lover I have known."

 But it was about so much more. Those ghosts. The ones that sat with her and were never lovers at all. Although once a sister thought perhaps that gorgeous ghost had crossed her path because he 'knew lots of pretty women'. It wasn't like that though. She had met that one indeed. She spoke to him. He may not have ever remembered her. But she remembered him and when he died- well, that ghost sat in the chair right up front and said, "It's getting closer, ain't it?"  She never wanted to chase them away. Ghosts she hadn't met but stay with her. They have her undivided attention and she reserves a place for them any time they want to drop on in. She owes them that.....

Wine and ghosts. Sitting and sippin'. It's a Wednesday. It's a Sunday. It's a path in life and death and it trudges on with a kiss of wine and a toast to the ghosts.

Here's to the ones that have been. The ones that never were and the ones who visit her still.

Raise your glass.