The old-vine Syrah has finished fermenting. Now the aging begins. It’s going to be an amazing vintage, and even though it should have been twice the amount, I’m living with it and my part in the tragedy. There’s no way to know if my campfire truly started the fire. I’ve accepted that it most likely didn’t, as I’m always very careful, and I remember being extra careful both mornings.
But I’ll never know for sure, and I have to accept that.
Part of being free means I have to accept those things in my life that I can’t change. It’s not easy, but it’s doable.
I’m doing it.
I’m at my office now, answering a few emails before I head to the winery to check on the Syrah and other wines, when my phone dings with a text.
Brendan Murphy?
Why is he texting me?
Dale, we need to talk. Important.
Tonight at my place. Bring Donny.