Tonight I pour a glass of deep ruby red. I taste beauty and feel joy but the potential is limited. I am alone, without my sisters. My soul sisters. Jasmine is in Africa and Adrienne is a newlywed in Michigan. Most shockingly, I am in Wyoming. With words, I sandwich Adrienne between the two of us, because that is how she likes to be. She is the nurturer, the comforter. Jasmine, with humble confidence fits first, and on a side, with the space to fly. I need time for reflection and perspective so I prefer the space on the end. In sentences and life this is how we organize ourselves when we are together.
Tonight I am longing for my favorite humans to sit around a table, pour some red and savor flavors. Together. Tonight, as I pour a glass of red, I realize my heart is different. Really different. I once named my heart a petit sirah. The color, that is. It happened one night in California when I was drinking a bottle of 2009 Spellbound Petit Sirah with my sisters. When Jasmine poured, I gasped. I had never seen a color so breathtaking. I resonated with this color so deeply that I immediately branded it the color of my own heart. I love thinking about all our hearts being different shades and colors. I used to ask people the color of their heart. I miss this. I miss a culture where asking such a question is not silly or strange and where answering is taken seriously, with the upmost reflection and care.
Tonight I realized that I am no longer petit sirah. That was before marriage and motherhood. Surely I have been made new. The color of beets, malbec or even limes, come to mind, but without my sisters I just can’t commit. I need their faces, laughter and desire to talk real. To go there, to that place few like to go, but a place where the three of us live.
Tonight I realize that the more I live, the more I cherish good women in my life, especially these two. So, tonight I hold up my glass of red to my sisters, who are thousands of miles away but are most definitely near my heart. A heart that has yet to decide its new color. Sisterhood reunion, come quick…