Up before the alarm. But it’s okay. I need to be up anyway. More time to sit in the dark.

I wipe down the counters and sweep the floors. I see that he’s unplugged the Christmas tree. It’s really time to take her down.

Coffee? Yes. I think today is another coffee day.

I take myself back to bed, fully dressed. Coffee in one hand and wordscapes in the other.

The sound of the rain. This is one of those sleepy kind of Sundays. It should be slow in the tasting room today.

He’s from here in California but went to Alabama for school. Work just made him get a passport so he’s curious as to what’s in store for 2019.

The four of them work for ESPN. That must be fun. Twenty-something and travelling across the country for work, tasting wine in your downtime. I know the city they are from.

He’s from Germany and so we talk about the old world whites from cold climates that we like: things from Alsace and Austria, Alto Adige in Italy. He thinks the California wines are too heavy but he still leaves with a bottle of reisling.

The two of them want to take a picture with me. They are the last ones to leave the tasting room but were so kind—which is what you’d expect from a group of southerners raised right by their mothers and fathers. “Roll tide,” they yell as the group tromps out into the rain.

This drive at night in the rain just wrecks my nerves. It takes a few minutes to unwind, unclench, remember to breathe.