Corks

I don’t really collect things.  But I do have two vases filled with wine corks.  Lest you think I’m an alcoholic, let me explain. 

These corks have dates written on them.  Dates and a description of what happened on that date.  These corks came from bottles of wine that were shared with friends, commemorated an important event, or were consumed on a night I wanted to remember.  Some traveled back in my suitcase from vacations to Arizona, New York, Nashville.  These weren’t corks from you average bottle of wine, opened on a random Tuesday and stretched out over a week or two.  No these bottles mean something, celebrate something, remind me of something.

I recently looked at a few of these corks.  There was one from the Halloween dinner party we had on our porch.  It was the first year we had made a conscious effort not to do the Halloween scene (you know, at a bar, in a silly costume, with lots of strangers).  A few friends sat around my favorite table in the house, handed out candy to the little ones that came by, laughed at the teenage boy who mooned us later in the night.  It was one of those nights that made me feel like I was living the grown up life I wanted- full of laughter, community and love.

There was one from the first holiday I “hosted.”  I use the word hosted loosely as my mom still made all the food.  In this instance hosting means everyone had to come to my house and I had to clean up the mess.  I used my fancy china for the first time (even though I only had 5 sets and most of the guests had to use my mom’s fancy china).  I had a sweet seven-month-old baby who was celebrating his first Christmas.  My family drank a little too much around our dining room table.  It was lovely.

There was one from the night my two closest girlfriends came over for dinner.  It was a middle of the week dinner and Tommy was gone.  We had just learned about Monster’s hearing loss.  I remember emailing my two sweet, wonderful friends needing to be with them.  Needing to unravel all the chaos swirling around in my head.  Needing to unload some of the burden.  And, as always, they came through.  They listened and supported and loved and helped.  I remembered marveling that nearly ten years later, these friendships still carried weight.  These girls were still the ones I turned to.  We had come a long way from late-night conversations about boys in our shared room at the sorority house, but they were still the ones I needed when the load was too heavy.

I love these corks.  I love that sifting through them can bring back so many memories.  I love the reminder they give me about the importance of life lived in community.  I love the hours of laughter and happiness; tears and support they represent.  I love the reminder they give me of the beautiful life I have lived and the hope they bring of many more memories made around the table with a few bottles of wine.