Dearest darling Gary
Tonight, New Years Eve, I am, erm, merry. depending on your point of view I could be sober as a judge or fissed as a part.
However, in a fit of your own sense of mortality, or New Year-itis, or looose-endedness or whatever, stuck for alcohol to buy, instead of getting something safe, being of limited funds you got creative and in an act of unusual love, remembered that once upon a misty past I was quite partial to QC sherry.
In all truth, as cheap as cider but somehow less cold and more celebratory, a bottle of QC was my one rare perk at one time. Suddenly, twleve years and a lifetime later, I am faced with another bottle.
A mere two glasses in (because I am older and my liver is not standing to attention like it once was) I remember the attraction, and with it the reasons, clarified by hindsight, that I shied away from it in the first place.
This stuff gets my giggle muscles, tweaks my cheeks and makes me feel maternal and hopeful toward the world. Chris, my first husband, couldnt stand to see me happy, couldnt stand to see the irrepressible joy which seeps from me with a sherry in my hand. I shied from the person I become under this influence as if she were some sort of embarassment, and loving you so much more than him, this became more important.
I desperately wanted to share my revelation with you in the middle of the best bit of the DVD we were watching, and creeping off to the keyboard is my version of self restraint, even though I know it grates on you.
I love you. I love you because you allow me to be happy. I want to celebrate 'with' you, but with children up and other things, now is not the time.
I wanted to say you took the brunt of things that he had done to my psyche, that we had cleared up most of our past scars that surface in normal life, but drunkeness is rare for me these days and so is the chance to analyse who I am in that state. You have continued to come across defences I built for my tiddly self that have no relation to you. Thank you and sorry; I know better now. After twelve years thats a big big deal, but I guess you'll read this one day.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Tonight, New Years Eve, I am, erm, merry. depending on your point of view I could be sober as a judge or fissed as a part.
However, in a fit of your own sense of mortality, or New Year-itis, or looose-endedness or whatever, stuck for alcohol to buy, instead of getting something safe, being of limited funds you got creative and in an act of unusual love, remembered that once upon a misty past I was quite partial to QC sherry.
In all truth, as cheap as cider but somehow less cold and more celebratory, a bottle of QC was my one rare perk at one time. Suddenly, twleve years and a lifetime later, I am faced with another bottle.
A mere two glasses in (because I am older and my liver is not standing to attention like it once was) I remember the attraction, and with it the reasons, clarified by hindsight, that I shied away from it in the first place.
This stuff gets my giggle muscles, tweaks my cheeks and makes me feel maternal and hopeful toward the world. Chris, my first husband, couldnt stand to see me happy, couldnt stand to see the irrepressible joy which seeps from me with a sherry in my hand. I shied from the person I become under this influence as if she were some sort of embarassment, and loving you so much more than him, this became more important.
I desperately wanted to share my revelation with you in the middle of the best bit of the DVD we were watching, and creeping off to the keyboard is my version of self restraint, even though I know it grates on you.
I love you. I love you because you allow me to be happy. I want to celebrate 'with' you, but with children up and other things, now is not the time.
I wanted to say you took the brunt of things that he had done to my psyche, that we had cleared up most of our past scars that surface in normal life, but drunkeness is rare for me these days and so is the chance to analyse who I am in that state. You have continued to come across defences I built for my tiddly self that have no relation to you. Thank you and sorry; I know better now. After twelve years thats a big big deal, but I guess you'll read this one day.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
posted by Cheryl at 10:41 pm
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