Death is a hard thing to deal with, and the sense of loss is palpable when the ones we love have recently departed.
A few days ago, I traded a fine sort of Reisling for a blue shirt with a bear patch on it.
That day before I left, my friend was coming out for breakfast, and Gene has been gone not quite six weeks. First thing in the morning, she knows she is alone because she sleeps in their bed still. She is sad and speaks of loss before her morning coffee. But it's disguised.
Her Ralph Lauren pants were ruined at the cleaners, she complained, they were a delicate pink, "and they were soft as butter."
On the day I traded the Reisling, I wondered should I get her a Thornton or Crozes-Hermitage to cheer her when I get home? I know she likes Syrah.
My friend Doug was born in Louisville, 'because his dad was a "vine" merchant', we would joke.