The Crooked Green Glass

Once upon a time a person I don't know, in a glass factory I've never been to, in a city I'm not sure of made a crooked green glass.

It was sent to a home store where it sat on the shelf in it's awkward, lopsided state, just waiting for me to find it.

I picked it up and felt my fingers curve perfectly around its ornate goblet.

I felt the weight of it against my palm.

I held it up to my lips and imagined the wonderful smell of hooch wafting over it's sparkly rim, as I proclaimed,

"This would be such an awesome wine glass!"

My mother crinkled her nose and scoffed,

"Oh no....Water.  Milk, maybe, but not wine,"

which made me sad because clearly my mother did not know the true depths of hoochy-mama-ness.

I brought it home and set it on the counter.

It tilted.

It slanted.

It was, dare I say, catawampus?

I opened a bottle and filled it up, sheer delight shooting out of my fingertips and I set it on display for my beloved.

"What is that?  It looks like something I'd get a garage sale," he said,

which didn't make me bitter as much as it made me amused because I don't know when my beloved has ever been to a garage sale.

I didn't care what anyone thought.

It was the perfect color green.

It looked vintage in my cabinet.

It held a fantastic amount of hooch.

We've become great pals, the crooked green glass and me.

My beloved still laughs when I put it on the counter.  He still leers at it from its base and titters at how ridiculously cockeyed it is.

He cannot see the light the way that I do.

He cannot feel the love of green and vintage and wine.

"Whatever....It's totally crooked......Hahahaha!"

And we lived happily ever after.