Blue Gray Rose Gold Wine

I’ve spent most of the last two days outside on our little deck because Vinca has Covid and we’re doing the challenging dance of distance and masking inside. I am so thankful for this view, and especially for this tree, that has changed reliably and stunningly with the more-than-I-expected seasons since we landed here after the fire. So many fires. I am so unendingly thankful for trees. For vivid spring green and stark winter brown and autumn orange.

Last night, in order to distance, I slept on our big roomy sofa with the windows wide open and alternately felt like a cozy squirrel in a nest and an aging human woman with creaky neck and achey body. I dreamt I went to a party, comfortable and confident in high heels (feeling surprised at how comfortable and confident I was), holding a luminous rose gold purse. At the party, in a low room, bright and dark in equal measure, someone offered me a choice between two goblets: a smaller, thicker, translucent one, striped with wavy rose gold lines, or a larger, clear, and straightforward one. I laughed and smiled as I gestured towards the smaller one. Then this someone poured rose gold wine into my complicated rose gold glass while people chattered in the background and I felt, for the first time in a while, happy.

I’ve spent a lot of time lately feeling confused and hopeless and alternately cluttered and deeply empty – straight-up blue-gray. When I told my therapist this she noticed I was wearing blue and gray. Last night Vinca sat on the other side of the deck as I hung my laundry and she said, “Mom, all your clothes are blue and gray.” I stepped back and looked; she was right.

But this morning things looked different, cluttered and confusing as they still are.

I was offered two goblets. I chose the smaller, luminous one.

I could have chosen the straightforward life. The plain and ample; the expected. I didn’t.

I chose this: the small, yet crafted, yet surprising, yet radiant, and slightly astonishing. Rose gold wine in a rose gold glass and laughter and good company.

I am so unendingly thankful for my dream life, which sends love notes to my awkward waking one sometimes.

And I am thankful for this blue-gray house around our shoulders and today’s shifting blue-gray sky.

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