The Beverage

I believe that we all experience certain moments in life, during which we see our lives with exceptional clarity. Suddenly, events will unfold in a certain way, and we're granted a brief opportunity for unclouded reflection on our experiences. It is during these times that we are able to confront ourselves with the honesty of our true desires, and it is with the lingering memory of this realization that we are able to align our behavior with these desires, empowering us to experience greater satisfaction and integrity.

I recently had such an experience. It was while lying in a thick pile of dead leaves and cow manure on top of a mountain, miles from my shower, with my naked ass voiding itself in one direction, and my abused mouth doing the same in the other, and, between the two, my stomach playing some kind of evil game of organ Twister, that I looked up at the stars above and thought, "I could really use a glass of lemonade."

Yesterday morning, barely recovered from the food poisoning activities of the night before, while carrying my backpack and sleeping mat back down the mountain on my wobbly spaghetti-legs, I woozily recalled the epiphany, and since then it hasn't left my thoughts. I would still like a glass of lemonade.

Actually, I very specifically want a glass of Santa Cruz brand lemonade OR the lemonade they serve at a restaurant in Palo Alto, because it is gently flavored with rose water, and roses smell like delicious.

Now, the rose-y lemonade I can't get, but the jar of Santa Cruz lemonade is available at Super Lake, the fancy pants import grocery store out east of Ajijic. I could take the bus over there and buy it, but my innate miser refuses to shell out the money for such an extravagance. Why should I pay all that money that my broke ass doesn't have when I could just stay here in town and make perfectly good limeade?

But here's the beautiful part of my conundrum. So long as I hold out and don't get this glass of delicious, thirst-quenching marvel of a beverage, I've got my life by the balls. You know? If someone asks me what I lack, I don't have to say "a job" or "community" or "the opportunity to live in my own country with my husband" or even something unobtainable, like "a super-sized trampoline" or "my very own velociraptor". See? All I have to say is, "Gosh, I could really use a glass of lemonade."