a very different buzz

I look at myself in the mirror. I'm wearing red and my eyes are wild and my hair is ruffled and dusted with snow and I think to myself: you are loved. And Loved. I sway and then catch myself on the edge of the sink--the last glass of wine is still running through my blood--and I see all these things. Favors and gifts and the right place at the right time. Shiny silver wrapping paper and Christmas cards and anticipation. Oh, I do appreciate spellcheck and I do appreciate the way the snow came up to my shins as I waded up to my back door a few minutes ago. I feel like I'm too far north, but I'm here--I'm in Virginia and I'm glad to be so and this snow, this sparkly, deep, drifting snow, is covering up everything I've been trying to forget. I need nights like these, with the blue and red and green and white lights and endless glasses of sangria and mutualism and the boy who drives in to town through the snow just to be with me, to be by my side when I need him. I mean, who am I to earn this? I'm not, and I have not, but it's mine, nonetheless--the dear, dear friend in the tall white socks and the laughter and accented voices and oranges hung on a tree. I mean: I'd be thinking all of this even without the buzzing in my head, but it's helping, in a way, to get this in place and to put it in a line. I don't mind.