Saturday night

            It’s Saturday night. Jonathan’s on call, but made it home with some daylight left to saw logs and split wood. He came in after dark, jacket redolent of the outdoors - chain saw exhaust, split oak, warm body heat – and draped his jacket over a chair. I made a big pot of cabbage and veggie soup and opened a bottle of wine.
            Last summer, I called the Napa Valley vineyard that my dad bought all his wine from. I missed him. I missed sipping his lovely wines in his condo, entertained by his cheery welcome, his ridiculous puns, his philosophizing, his crackling wood fire and Mantovani music. So I bought a case of his favorite wines, and they told me, “You can customize your labels when you buy a case.” I put his initials on every bottle, so I think of him every time I open a bottle of wine and sit by the crackling fire, with my two old dogs and my sweet smelling husband.
 
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 88: 166 words, TOTAL = 14,797; 45,203 remaining

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