Popping Evan Williams

Pulling the cork top on the bottle of Evan Williams Single
Barrel, it pops – being two thirds gone – and echoes in the
empty dining room next door, glancing off the new oak laminate
to be absorbed in the still drying plaster of the walls: that space,
when finished, where I will be drinking much more in the time
I still have to waste, as happily. Its old carpet had been there for
nearly thirty five years, and even at its start was second-hand,
so it too will have seen plenty of drift and deterioration over its
bourbon days. The room is gutted, cleared for renovation, but also
the Feng Shui of imagining fresh beginnings, returning only those
things necessary for nostalgia to feel reconciled with what it has
abandoned. Like the scent of Grandpa’s whiskey sniffed as a boy
from discarded empties, there is a memory that will remain, and
it will still make noises like that ricochet in the shell of its boom.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s