Bad Wine

As I watch the sailboats slide slowly across the bay, I open our bottle of wine.
“Was it a good year?” my sister asks.
“I’m not sure,” I say. “Year’s not over yet.”
Aunt Polly used to say that good company makes up for bad wine.
We’ve been doing this for years – bad wine, stale bread, and a ratty old blanket on the shore of the bay.
“Is the sun going up or down?” my sister says.
“I’m not sure anymore,” I say. “Have a drink.”
We used to go out rowing, the three of us.
Don’t ask.
Just drink.