Dear Bright Cellars Winery Company

Dear Bright Cellars Winery Company,

I am writing today, as your merlot relieves my sobriety, to thank you for your undeniable, although unknowing, involvement in my relationship of the last four and three-quarter years; which, as of about forty-eight minutes ago, has unfortunately come to an end. As you can likely imagine, given the circumstances, I am emotional. And instead of calling my mother, which honestly I couldn’t weather and will foreseeably put off as long as possible, I have decided, in my grief, the most suitable and appropriate action I could take was to write to you (whoever you are reading this).

Your effect on said relationship is such that I felt compelled to write a letter and fully explain; in doing so showing entirely my gratitude for your existence and influence. Trying to write cohesively and eloquently through the fog of three glasses of wine (I may have drunk the first two rather quickly) may be difficult. Nevertheless, it is what you deserve, and I will therefore try my utmost. This may seem bizarre, but I need you to hear my story... and at least I expect writing this may be therapeutic. I know you (your wine), and you don’t know me-- us; so here is the story of us, starting with our first date, which consequently, means starting with you.

I seldom drink (the irony isn’t lost), but I was invited by the woman who birthed me over for dinner to meet her new arrangement. I had only moved out of the house six months prior and so, in my newly decided adulthood, I thought it appropriate to buy a bottle of wine to bring to this quote-unquote event. However, given my alcohol consumption inexperience, I decided it was in my best interest to ask a clerk for assistance. To be abundantly clear, I wasn’t trying to impress my mother. I just didn’t want to face the harassment I’d receive for buying a poor choice and subsequently be subjected to a barrage of condescendence about ignorance in accordance with my obvious youth. I suppose I must give her credit. I was in that specific store because I was applying to the grocery across the road which my Mother insisted on since I was currently unemployed and you can imagine the earful I heard about-- Anyway-- I digress.

Unprepared, I approached this young woman in uniform and asked if she could help me. I must emphasize I’m not trying to be cliché or dramatic or cheesy or any of those type adjectives, but I swear on whatever god you believe in that as she turned to me, time slowed. I know time slowed because I was able to notice far too much between the moment of her turning and when she spoke. I noticed, as she turned into my life, how her hair twirled around her as if animated with personality; buoyant, soft and wavy, quick-witted and driven. How could I tell all this in the movement and look of her hair, I can’t explain, but it was immediately understood. Her eyes, blue as the sky on the sunniest of days with shades of earthy green; she looked at me as if she’d known me her whole life, with care and interest… and her smile… her smile was large and wide, so much so I would learn later she was embarrassed by just how big it stretches. But I loved it; her smile held a lifetime of laughter in the subtlest of creases-- I was reduced to a child who was experiencing a crush for the first time. Then she spoke and again, I know I’m a little drunk and sentimental but I mean it when I say her voice made you believe in angels. Her name tag read Jane and I fell in love with her before I fell in love with her.

Jane was holding in her hand your wine; a merlot specifically. Said she was stocking a new brand just arrived, Bright Cellars, and that she was excited to try it. But considering she hadn’t, yours wasn’t the bottle recommended. I bought her suggestion and as we made small talk at the register I learned Jane was also a cashier at the grocery across the street. It was meant to be. I told her how I had just applied and she said she’d hope to see me there on Monday. She did.

My mother liked the cabernet sauvignon (Jane’s recommendation) but found a way to condescend me all the same. We got talking about my interaction at the liquor store and my mother couldn’t understand why I didn’t ask her out right then and there. She has high expectations of me and it’s crippling. If we were animals in past lives I’d put all my limited earnings on my Mother being a lioness. I’ve always been the hesitant type. I suppose I get that from my father. Mother says my father was always waiting for life to happen and she just couldn’t live with someone who wasn’t living himself… anyway, this story isn’t about them.

Come Monday I started work at the grocery and as I walked into the store Jane was the first face I saw. It seemed as if all the colours of all the fruits and vegetables and boxes of cereal saturated around her; the colour had to rise to her bright energy. They had me working mostly in the plant section, watering, which I was neglectful of and would later be repositioned. What I hated most about being in the plant section is it was farthest from the cashiers, which is where Jane was. I would imagine her smiling and laughing with the people that walked through her life, listening to their stories, making small anecdotes about what items they would purchase-- that smile. The beautiful smell of the flowers around me would only enhance my thoughts of her-- I would suspect, looking back, it was all this daydreaming that kept me from watering the plants.

I’d invent excuses to walk by or sit next to her in the lunchroom, always concocting a reason to talk with her, hopefully eventually arriving at the courage to ask her out. I would stand among the unwatered plants and think of different elaborate dates I could take her on; how I could impress her. And then one day, when I walked into work and we had our usual hellos, she went ahead and asked. She asked me out! I was honestly disappointed in myself that she beat me to it, but I wasn’t upset. I was ecstatic. We were to go out that Thursday. A picnic in the park; her idea. But I knew exactly how I’d impress her. I had the most romantic idea to compliment whatever she had planned. I would go to the liquor store and I would buy the bottle she was holding when we first met, the one she never tried; it was so fitting, so beautiful, so perfect. Bright Cellars Merlot.

The date, as expected, was incredible. We had our picnic in the park, by the water. Thankfully she hadn’t tried your wine and she was smitten that I brought it. We drank a glass in the park under a large oak tree and it was delicious. The way she marveled over wine always struck me. I loved how she loved things. We walked along the water, as the waves lapped at our feet, and skipped rocks, and drank more-- delicious. We found a rocky area to climb up and sit and watch the sunset as we near finished the bottle… and it was delicious. She leaned into me as we shared special memories only few will ever hear and the sun slowly dipped into the water. Once dark, fireworks started going off above us (there happened to be some rugby razzmatazz nearby). And as we both sat there under the stars and the fireworks, beautiful in the moonlight, she looked at me. Not just any look. She looked at me the way someone dreams to be looked at; the way a dream looks at a dreamer. She told me if I didn’t kiss her right then and there I’d be missing an incredible opportunity, and although there were many missed opportunities and disappointments to come, that’s not how it started. For once I didn’t hesitate. There, under the stars and the moonlight and the fireworks, we shared our first kiss; before finally sipping back the last of your merlot… and it was all delicious.

The next year would be full of laughter and adventure and all the little moments that define a relationship. I can say the words shoelace, Virgo, lawn chair, kismet, slinky, popliteal, bedhead, bibimbap and merlot and they can mean something different to you, but to us they mean something extremely specific. We all have those private connections that fill up a relationship and make words take on new meaning. All the little things I’ll forever have attached memories to, no matter how melancholic the meanings may now be. But how lucky we are to have those little memories, aren’t we?… anyway…

On our first anniversary, back before we were hard-boiled, I decided to try and recreate our first date. I bought the same Bright Cellars merlot; the same cheese, bread and everything from that first picnic. But it rained. And so it would seem things would not be as perfect as they were the year before. Jane had the right attitude. She didn’t let it phase her, despite my obvious disappointment, she suggested we adapt and simply find somewhere sheltered to have our picnic. Deep in the park we eventually found a charming gazebo, small, stout and handsome. Everything seemed like it may be salvaged but before we opened the wine I sliced my thumb open. Cutting the cheese. Soft brie cheese and a tiny cheese knife from the dollar store and somehow I now needed three stitches. Needless to say, the date was defeated and the wine bottle, the Bright Cellars merlot, was never opened.

I conjured another great, albeit damned idea: We wouldn’t open the bottle until a special occasion. So it sat in our apartment. It sat lonely on a shelf waiting year after year for the quote-unquote right moment. It sat there, collecting dust, watching as our relationship grew stale. We didn’t fall apart in a volcanic eruption that happens to some… We just dried out, like a grape in the sun. She would never say it but I saw her month by month become more and more bored with me. I would stay up at night plotting elaborate plans to reignite the relationship, all involving the bottle of merlot that was anxiously waiting for a moment to live in. But that moment never came. She told me that who she was when we met fell in love with who I was when we met, but that who she was now couldn’t love who I was then. And then she left. Just now. Well, accurately she left an hour and eight minutes ago. I’m sorry if I’ve rambled. I hope I haven’t bored you. It wasn’t my intention-- I’ll arrive at my intention.

And so I’ve dusted off the bottle of merlot, your merlot, that’s been sitting through the entirety, observing every up and down, and here I am drinking it alone and writing to you. I worry I’ll be hungover at the grocery tomorrow… I suppose I should’ve watered the plants more. I suppose I should’ve done many things different. You know, I was worried that the wine might’ve gone bad over the years, I know there’s a word for that but I don’t know it; Jane would… But no, as I sit here writing to you, and thinking back on when we first met and that first date, it’s just as delicious as I remember.

So, I’m just writing to say,

Thank you.