Gone too...

The wine glass is near bottom for the second time, and i can't feel the change yet. I'm not much of a drinker, so this is all somewhat new to me. It's an interesting thing for me to be home alone in the living room gulping wine as quick as I can. I obviously haven't acquired the taste yet and find no need to slush it around in my mouth any longer than i absolutely have to.
This time it's not about the taste. Who needs the taste when what I'm really hoping to find is something more similar to that time I got my wisdom teeth pulled and spent the night in my room staring at the ceiling fan spin above my head.
I can see now that my veins are poking out more so than usual on my hand...but I try not to look and instead I try to put myself back in my bed. Back to a time when I was able to shut the door on love and welcome other things that I was sure wouldn't hurt me. It is true, there is no real answer for a broken heart; at least not one simple answer for everyone. We all have our own methods, and here's mine: "sipping" wine, and blogging...alone in the living room of the house that I grew up in. The only epic thing we're missing is a fire place, everything thing else exists to my pleasure: the wooden bookshelves coated in novels that form around the flat screen tele, the messaging chair in the opposite corner of the room, the huffing sleeping beagle, and lastly, the rich dark red leather sofas that line two of the western walls. Call it home- for now (since my parents might be moving).
I love this place. I fell in love with it in my teen years after I realized how dependent this place is. It's a 35 acre lot with pecan trees, fourwheeler routes, grass richer than Oprah's front lawn, a chicken farm lingering in the distance, a mechanic's shop that once was my fathers, and most importantly, the spot at the side of the house just off the edge of our long front porch. The spot where my body lays summer and all too soon in the spring feeling the sun. The spot where I sit bundled up in a coat and scarf for as long as I can stand it during the fall, nose touching my knee caps as I take in the view.
For so long this piece of land has been the one thing that I could always rely on. It watched me grow up into the person I am today; everything from the spoon I would dig with in the sand, to the hours I would spend mowing, singing to the fields.
And just like that, just like all good things vanish, it will be gone too.