Page 258 - Reason To Sing by Kelita Haverland

Reason To Sing

Romance doesn’t come naturally to my new husband, but
I insist he carry me over the threshold of our boudoir. Gord
is much steadier than I am, thank goodness. I’m afraid I’ve
had a bit too much wine and my energy is waning.
“Now for the special champagne!” Gord announces with
great anticipation. His grandfather, who passed away at 98,
left a bottle of very old champagne (circa 1969), for his only
grandson’s big night. Gord wastes no time as he pulls the
chilled green bottle out of the silver ice bucket.
“It’s been waiting patiently for us,” he chuckles. “Heck,
it’s practically been waiting a lifetime.” We laugh together as
Gord readies himself to pop the cork and I eagerly position
the two champagne glasses.
“You set?”
“Okay, I’m ready.”
“Brace yourself. Here we go!” Gord carefully pulls the
cork. Nothing happens. No pop, no fizz, no nothing.
“Oh no!” I moan, disappointedly. We do not have a
backup.
Gord gingerly pours a little of the yellowish-brown liquid
into one of the glasses.
“Oh gosh, it’s so old it’s completely gone flat.” I haltingly
take a sip. Big mistake. “Oh yuck. How old did you say this
was? We can’t drink this!”
Oh, come on. How bad can it be?” Gord never likes to
waste anything. He sips and his face says it all. “Yup, you’re
right. Pretty bad.”
So much for our romantic champagne toast.
We laugh together and then embrace, falling into a
beautiful kiss. A nice long romantic kiss. But much like the
ancient champagne, there is not much pop here either. We’re
exhausted from an extremely long day and our bodies simply

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