What can one say about the last ten years that this wine cannot? In ten years I have lived everyday without her, thinking about her, losing her everyday I wake up. She is now younger than me, than all of us. She doesn’t age, unlike this wine. But like this wine, neither had the time to grow old, really age. And so, once again, something is in front of me, dying.
The wine from the Veneto. I was just there. I should have gone down to Umbria and visited her site. I’ll go in the spring, when the lilies are covering her spot on the hill. Now, I am relegated to the gloomy skies of winter, and this bottle of wine and my memories of a love lost to the ages.
But we have wine to sooth us. Bright, sweet, lively, filled with energy, ringing though our veins, making us lighter and brighter with it. Maybe a little calmer, a tiny bit melancholic. Read not further, you’ve already gone too far. Stop, surf on, dear cynics, this is my dirge.
Oh, there are sunrises and periods of happiness. There must be. It’s a necessity for survival. The butterfly still flutters, the bee still buzzes. And yes, there's a little honey and happiness too. One cannot sleep forever. Not yet.
Today my son and I will go to visit a new child, his little niece. We celebrate ten years of passing with a new gift of life. A new vintage. It will be a very good year.
In Memory of Lizanne ~ Feb 14, 1953 - Feb 17, 2001