Wine

     It used to exist as some fantasy of mine back when I was adolescent. Escaping my current reality through my imagination and wondering what it would be like to drink wine. Not only what it would be like to drink it, but to drink it with people who knew me. People who knew me, every nook and part of me, and chose to love me deeply. My mind would linger here, in this yearning for adulthood. To forget about twelve. Like it never even happened. Twenty. Women I love. Women who love me. At twelve I was a mystic seer of the future. Escaping my immediate mundane ended up molding my future like some sad pottery class where everyone is a kid wishing they would be anything but that. But really, I'm happy now. Last night I sat at a round table. Not a window was without a candle. Two of my favorite friends and I shared a pizza and drank red wine out of square wine glasses. We wore all black and had our hair done. It was cinematic. We even had jazz playing. Talked about our exes, laughed about them. That is where the healing happens. Women are fantastic. There is something other-worldly about sharing space with them. My twelve-year-old self would be baffled at the life I've built for myself thus far. I hope I continue to fulfill her dreams. Ultimately, they are mine. I never thought I would have friends like the ones I have. In their presence I feel like I need a good pinch here and there to check if this is really happening. If I could say one little thing to twelve-year-old me, I would say, "There will be much more to look forward to than drinking wine."