In Cervisia Veritas


They say that in wine, there is truth.

In beer, there is sometimes too much.

Oh, I’m not sitting here downing beer after beer feeling sorry for myself.  But it’s hard to have carried up another bagful of frozen meals after a few beers over dinner and not wonder.  There are moments when it feels like it’s not supposed to be like this.  That there was a path missed, a road not taken, that led somewhere very different.  And to me being someone very different.

Which makes it a matter of whether different is necessarily better.

Different would certainly mean not having gone through the last few years.  But it would also mean having missed out on the good years before it.  It’s all a trade-off.  It’s all cyclical.  You’ve got to do time in the darkness to really appreciate the light.  And my particular darkness would be a walk in the park for some people.  Not that I’d ever wish it on them.  But at least I had a net.  The fact that the dinner those beers were over was on behalf of some good friends says as much.

And the thing is, all this musing is so easily dispelled.  In less than 24 hours I’ll be in a room full of people playing board games, worried more about little wooden tokens and cardboard chits than what’s in my freezer and who’s not in my apartment.  I’ve got this blog — and you readers, by association — to bang my head against.  I’ve got shelves and shelves of entertainment at my disposal, and hours more at the end of the cable sticking out of this computer. I’ve got zero excuse for staring at the walls bemoaning my fate.

That doesn’t mean it’s wrong to take a moment and think on what’s happened.  These were things that occurred, not things that define.  But they’re a part of my life, and to ignore them would be to ignore my arms or legs.  Except I don’t really think a whole lot about my arms and legs during the day.  The key is not to dwell.  Not to use it as a cross to climb up on.  Not to take it as a referendum on my entire life.  Verses in a song and I’ve already sung them.  Time to move on to the chorus.

So maybe every once in a while I’ll pause at the bottom of the stairs and look up at my apartment door and think about how different the climb up could be.  But I’ll still start climbing up.

Anyway, that’s what was in my beer tonight.

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