On the road
The Teny Tiny Tudor
We had a couple of hours to spare before our scheduled wine tasting with Val. We decided to rest our heads in the loft bed. We embraced one another, trying to warm ourselves up against the cold that had accumulated over time in the vacant house.
“Take a nap. I’ll wake you up in 10, 15 minutes”, I said to her. Her eyes drew to a close. She let out a soft “OK”. I found myself nodding in and out of sleep. In between those nod-offs, I looked down at her face and thought about how lucky I was. Lucky to have someone to hold. Lucky to be in that space and time. Lucky to have her in my life.
After a couple of hours, we decided to prep our food for dinner that night. Once we were done, we took a short walk down to the winery. Upon entering, Val was bidding farewell to her only customer and she welcomed us to her taproom. She introduced us to her series of small batch, natural wines, mead, and ciders that she created herself.
“I rely on native yeast and just….”
“Just let nature takes it’s course, right?” I chimed in.
“Yea, exactly. The taste of the wines change from year to year as a result.”
Whatever happens, happens. I thought to myself.
I was familiar with the fermentation process that Val spoke of. I have always found it fascinating. The idea that you can only control so much of the process before letting go only to have time decide its fate. Val then expressed another love of hers — traveling. She talked about her plans for converting her Mercedes Sprinter Van and her plan to drive down to Mexico with her partner. We told her about our recent purchase of an ’88 GMC G-20 and our own plans to convert it for future road trips. Val poured us complimentary shots of local whiskey and drinking vinegar for us to try as she started to talk more about the property on which her winery sat on.
“We also do wedding receptions in the barn next door.”
“Oh I love that. Could we maybe see it?” said Heather.
“Of course, of course. Here, let me give you some more information… are you guys getting married?”
“No, no!”
Val gave me an uneasy look, afraid that maybe she hit a touchy subject. I eased her worries with a laugh of my own. Not because it was uncomfortable but because of just how fast and adamant Heather was in her response. After admiring, Val’s conversion of the barn into a rustic wedding venue we bid Val a farewell of our own and walked back just as the sky was turning ice blue.
“Do you catch certain things I say?”
“O yea. Every time.”
“So you caught that, No! response?”
“Yup.”
Night was approaching. We popped open a bottle of Beaujolais. In between starting a fire and preparing it for cooking, I stepped in to the tudor for relief from the cold. Each time I did, we would stop, look into each other’s eyes, pull each other close, and kiss, neither of us wanting to let go of the other. And so we would do it all over again. I then went back out to throw our potatoes in the burning hot coals while she continued to sauté the portobello mushrooms in soy sauce. Finally, the fire was just right for putting the T-bone steaks on the grill.
She set a small makeshift bed tray table with our plastic silverware and a double set of paper plates for reinforcement atop our sitting area bench. It was perfect. We sat across from each other Indian style and enjoyed our steak dinner over a second bottle of wine. As we were finishing our meal, I suggested that we use what was left of our firewood.
The fire was burning bright as we hovered around the blaze. “You know what this reminds me of?” She didn’t give me a chance to guess. “A homeless person”. The image of a homeless person around a drum barrel with flames shooting out from it came to mind. We looked at each other and started laughing at the absurdity of her remark.
“Are you my hobo girlfriend?” We laughed even harder.
Not long after, we decided that it was too cold for the both of us so we retreated inside and settled in for the night. We finished drinking our second bottle of Beaujolais. “Go get that mead.” she requested. When I returned, I found her setting ourselves up for a game of Chinese checkers. Neither of us talked during its duration. Our eyes never once looked up from the board. The silence we shared was nothing short of comforting. We were the only two people in the world.
Having been defeated, I sat back and laid out on the bench. She crawled over to me, kissed me, and rested her head on my heart. At one point, her breathing was in sync with mine. Minutes later, she woke me up from our slumber. We climbed up to the loft and made ourselves comfortable for the night as we layered ourselves with multiple blankets and wrapped ourselves in each other.
The following morning, we woke up the same way we had fallen asleep.
“One more night.” she whispered.
“One more night.” I whispered back.
As we packed our bags with reluctance, we shared a glass of what was left of the bottle of mead and toasted to our trip. It was no more than a couple of minutes into our departure from the property when she saw something that caught her eye.
“Did you see that?”
“No, should I turn around?”
“Yea. I think so.”
On the way back, I couldn’t make out what I had failed to notice the first time around. It wasn’t until we were parked right underneath what she was referring to that I saw her — a masked Marilyn Monroe mannequin — affixed atop a timeworn barn. She was serving as a bombshell weather vane. It was a reminder of the world that we have been living in for the majority of the year. As we entered onto the highway, I looked over at her. Again, I thought about how lucky I was. We were approaching our one year anniversary together. I then thought about our conversation with Val. I have faith in the process.
