My road trip has come to a rest in New York, for the time being. I am now at my 98 year old father in laws house in Southampton, NY. The exclusive “Hamptons”, where summer is the season of the rich and famous, or just the really, really rich. We sit on my father in laws deck and watch the Wall Street hedge fund managers helicopter in from Manhattan.
Long Island is divided into two “forks”. The South Fork, where the exclusive Hamptons are located, is filled with expensive real estate, beaches, and night clubs, the party is always on.
The North Fork is the land of the local vineyards.
My husband and I used to spend quite a few Sunday’s going from vineyard to vineyard, doing wine tastings and listening to local bands.
For every one glass he would have, I would have two. He would always say, “Slow down, we have all day.” The day usually ended with me quite sloppy, and him driving us back to his house and putting me to bed.
I drove through the North Fork on Friday on my way back from New England. It is beautiful at this time of year. The farm stands are open, with fresh seasonal vegetables, and wonderful homemade fruit pies. The Vineyards and their tasting rooms are packed with tourists and live music. It proved to be a trigger.
My favorite vineyard, Wolffer, has a seasonal rose that is amazing. It is one of my favorite wines, and this is it’s season.
The Wolffer vineyard is in Southampton, where we are right now. We used to go there for Saturday afternoon wine and cheese.
Yesterday around 5 pm, all I wanted was to get in the car and go get a glass of that beautiful crisp, pink rose. Of course I didn’t want A glass, I wanted A bottle, or two. This is its season, and it will sell out shortly,and not be available again until next year. So, as I always said, go big or go home, let’s go get a case!
I told my husband what I was thinking. Of course we didn’t go get any.
I then realized that my alcoholism is keeping him from enjoying one of his favorite wines. He loves that rose also. I know he would never even think about bringing a bottle of that wine into the house an d drink it in front of me. He knows that I would surely cave, and quickly rationalize myself into a glass/bottle, and I would be off and running once again.
I need to remember this when I think that he isn’t supportive of my sobriety. Clearly he is. He is silent support, his is my security system, diligently working in the background to keep me from downloading anything dangerous. I am thankful for that.