Dear Wine,

I just wanted to thank you. 

Thank you for your chill on a warm summer’s eve. For your deep gut warmth in the heart of winter. Thank you for sparkling when the mood is high, for your tannic melancholy when the world feels dark.

Thank you for making meals an occasion, and for making occasions for meals. Remember the time we sat in the long grass in Provence, feasting on goats cheese and tomatoes? And you were there, bright and herbaceous, earthy and grounding, staining our lips, filling our hearts. We felt like gods that day. 

Remember that tiny bar? Louis Armstrong crackling on the record player, salty jamon melting on our tongues. Remember how we giggled about farts, debated the definition of ‘muse’, spoke of love lost, secretly fought back tears? You tasted like canned peaches and cream - like childhood. That helped us connect, thanks for that.

Thank you for making the world a little lovelier. For inspiring great art, for the music. God, thank you for the music. And the dancing! The dancing that makes me feel alive, that makes my heart burst from my chest. We should really go dancing more, you and I.

Thank you for helping me talk when I feel shy. Just holding you is enough. It’s really not your heady escape that I so adore. But your intrigue, your rich complexity, your depth and delicacy, your fragility, vulnerability. You remind me I’m that allowed to be vulnerable too. Thank you.

Thank you for all of it, for the hard conversations, the hidden truths, the red-faced laughter. For the tears, the hugs, the sloppy kisses. 

Joni was so right. I could drink a case of you, darling, and I’d still be on my feet.

Will you be my Valentine? 

I think I’m in love.