Coffee and Wine

Meet my best friend: coffee. Oh wine, I’m so sorry to have slighted you. Yes, yes, you may share the honor. Meet my best friend: wine.

In the morning, I can’t wait for the hit of caffeine. She is so divine. So necessary. Like a shot of feminine invincibility. In the evening, the slow down and fuzziness only wine can bring. Sometimes he shows up before nightfall. I’ll only admit to 4:00 visits.

I noticed many online women’s groups gathered around Ms. Caffeine long before I met her. Back then, I didn’t understand her power, her promise. Now I know all I need to do is grab her hand and she will lead me out of the fog, up any mountain that awaits: a pile of papers, tubes of paint, baskets of laundry. She gives me the clarity and confidence to conquer. I choose her. She serves me.

Wine, on the other hand, is a smooth seducer. He whispers, “Try me. Come closer.” I sip. “Again?” he beckons. He pulls me out of the world and into my body, my mind adrift. Such a slow lover. Lets me set the pace. Tingly. Warm.

Shameful, these liquid friends. What of the real people in my day? My husband: always absent. Today Brazil. Tomorrow London. My teenage son: silent and alien. My people world is too small, too lonely, too frustrating to describe.

Meantime, my liquid relationships flow freely. Each a mirrored river that reflects me back to me. Strong, determined, capable in the morning. Vulnerable and wanting at night.