Unwritten

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I have a confession to make.


I fell off the soda wagon this weekend. It started out innocently enough. I mean, just a few sips at dinner Friday night turned into a full-on craving for some carbonation around midnight last night. I even temporarily lost my mind and paid $2 for it, and it was a can no bigger than a minute! And now...THIS. It says it’s 16 oz, but to me it screams of early memories of working Mitch’s Texaco at ages 20 and 21, and people would venture in and buy a single can of beer that appeared skyscraper big. They’d chauffeur that single right up to the counter, ask for a Black & Mild, and sometimes pay for it all in silver and a couple pennies. When I came onboard there, I was commanded by whomever it was who trained me to put those beers in tiny brown paper sacks. Never understood why! I mean, RILLY?! Y’all don’t know how many times I wanted to lean in close with my upper half on the counter, tilt my head in a “gotcha” sort of way, and look a man square in the eye only to say, “ You ain’t slick!” Doesn’t the doodoo-colored paper sheath shaped into a sawed-off bullet kind of give it away just a little?! I’m so #thankful I no longer feel that I have to hide what I’m drinking! God is GOOD, and so’s this Sprite. Cheers, y’all. ♥️