We have three bottles of sparkling in our fridge. One is a vintage Moet, a gift, that shall be kept for good. One is a mid-range bottle that a friend left here almost two years ago. One is the derro bottle. We found it one early morning at New Farm Park, just sitting there all by itself, waiting for someone to adopt it. We looked around, saw no owners and eventually bought it home and made it our own. And there they sit. A trio of suppressed revellers. Chilled. Waiting. For a day when things feel special enough for “champagne”. A day befitting of sparkling.
Last night we finally had a good bit of rain, and today I woke up to a sun that had been washed clean, and crunchy grass flexing and stretching, and tinging to green.
Today I opened my eyes and looked around at my world and saw a flat, flat, blue sea, fine yellowish-white sand, plump red tomatoes and sweet emerald basil. I saw the the lime green of my office, the silver of my sign; the freshness of my work.
I saw the many hues of my patients, all shimmering and glimmering and reflecting their own unique shades.
I saw the white rendered walls of our house, filled mostly with laughter and love.
And when I looked in our fridge at the end of my day, I saw three bottles of celebration, primed golden bubbles, subdued by a cork.
Today was a sparkling kind of day.
I hope your day sparkled too.
“Come quickly, I am tasting the stars!”
Do you drink champi on a school-night?
What defines a celebration in your house?