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2018-12-31 - 11:17 a.m.

She sits in her low beach chair looking out at the waves, rhythmically walloping the beach. The sky is gray and heavy, but the clouds are non-threatening. With each wave crash: another sip. Another sip. "How can I make this last all day?" she thinks to herself, looking at the empty bottle.

The doctor insisted no more than two bottles of wine a day. She was shocked, how only two? Her son was incredulous for the opposite reason, why should she be drinking two?? But man is it complicated. The doctor said she needs to drink them or else her body would withdraw. That could kill her, after all these years ... after all these decades. But she's drinking to forget about it too. In fact she might think it would be okay if she died. See, it's really quite complicated.

Her husband died three months ago. He was an alcoholic. He drank at least twice as much as she did. He couldn't keep a job. She could keep the house up, but not any more. She knows it should be in better shape when her son comes with her grandson... but for all the other days, what's the point? No one else will see it. No one else cares.


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