A Margarita

June 11, 2010

I went for a margarita with a friend. Though the sun was shining, the oppressive weather pushed us inside to an air-conditioned booth. I looked for and failed to find a switch to turn off the light above our table. My friend reached up and unscrewed the bulb enough to darken our little cool world, a world made even cooler by margaritas on the rocks with salt.
We sat there in the cool and talked about our lives. We talked about our frustration with the corporatization of higher ed, about her young daughter’s braces and my grownup braces; about her desire to move far away and change her world, and my similar desire. We talked about our frustrations with the political landscape, about our struggles in and out of relationships.
At one point I started to describe the kind of relationships I used to attract, the kind where I listened a lot, but ended up not being known. I told my friend how I’m slowly learning to pry those remaining fingers off my soul, and cultivating, instead, relationships of equitable give-and-take. Then I looked across the table and realized that this was such a relationship, that we were in a dark cool place of comfort and trust. So I took another sip of my margarita and kept talking and listening and asking and telling.
A nice thing… investing in reciprocity, and settling in for the give-and-take.

7 Responses to “A Margarita”

  1. Perhaps, also, the gift of the margarita. The slight loosening of the inhibitions and the opening of the heart. Like anything else, alcohol in excess is horrible and destructive. But a drink and a conversation with a friend in a dark, cool place–that’s the stuff.

  2. Geoff Woollacott said

    “Investing in reciprocity.”

    Great line.

  3. beautiful Sarah, I’m thankful that I have a small measure of this with you too, though just in 1s and 0s mostly

  4. beepbird said

    @Ken… a cup of tea in a warm, light place in the winter works too.

  5. tequilaanddonuts said

    I noticed an absence of bake goods. It’s funny how sometimes by the process of lamenting what we don’t have, we discover that we actually do have it. It’s like finding a fuzzy sock in the freezer.

  6. Michelle said

    I too loved the line “investing in reciprocity.” I’m a cup of tea in the garden girl, as alcohol had its way with me, but a shared meal (or drink) with ones we love at a soul level is untouchable. Thank you for this reminder.

  7. Laura said

    I need a margarita today – first day back after 2 weeks of vacation. I loved this line: “Then I looked across the table and realized that this was such a relationship, that we were in a dark cool place of comfort and trust.”

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