Blackbird Singing In The Dead Of Night

I can’t say it’s ever a good thing to marry young. Along that same line, I can’t say  it’s ever a good thing to drink wine before it too has had time to grow and age. Like wine, we need time to come into our own; time for our true selves to develop  form and flavor.

As I sit here, with four decades behind me – I know who I am. I am not so old that sediment has started to form. And yet, I have enough age that my true personality stands on its own. The trick now, is finding a partner that will savor what I have to offer.

As wines go, the particular bottle that is me, won’t be one that’s appreciated by all. Behind my darkened green glass hides a multitude of flavors. But like grapes that have had a tumultuous growing season, I am the embodiment of all that life has cultivated and harvested from me. I might even possess a biting edge at times – but that’s only due to some particularly cold nights. But if considered with appreciation, what at first seemed like an edge is soon enjoyed as the clear, unique nuance that separates me from the rest. However, for the most part, my flavor is full, with a very mellow finish.

There is something divine about turning 40. I never imagined living this long – yet here I am. I never imagined living my life alone – yet alone, I am. For the most part, I’m alone by choice. I rarely tip my bottle and pour out the contents. I only do so, if I feel certain the one who is about to receive me, will savor all the different flavors; all the different inflections that mark my singular personality. Finding the right partner is much like pairing a deep red with the perfect entrée – I want flavors that will set off and compliment that of my own. In other words, the entrée needs to be as full-bodied as the wine; each bringing out the best in one another.

This is a fun metaphor and yet perfectly suited to mirror the task that is: matching this quirky, philosophically lighthearted writer with a suitable mate. At times I am quite certain this bottle will finish its days old and dusty, unopened and thus unappreciated, hidden within a darkened wine cellar. Then there are days when I think, startlingly – maybe not. Maybe somewhere out there, is the perfect delectable meal longing for the perfect companion that will help soften all that it alone, cannot. One can only hope.

If not: cheers. Better to enjoy life alone, than not at all. But – how sweet it is, when paired well. I’ve tasted that nice blending of flavors, and all I can say is – it was divine. I hope to taste it again.



2 thoughts on “Blackbird Singing In The Dead Of Night

    1. SaneSamantha Post author

      Thank you. Life so often seems a bit bittersweet – or at least to me it does. All I can do is try to balance it out. I’m glad you enjoyed the post.


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