This entry in the beer journal is not about travel. It’s about home.
This is a Corona. It is my beer of choice.
And sitting behind that Corona is Lewis, my company of choice. He’s having a Shiner Black.
When I am home, I drink light, effervescent, (preferably Mexican) beer. Lewis is pretty loyal to “whatever you have that’s really dark.” He likes words like “stout.” I like words like “crisp.” And I like my Mexican lagers dressed. That means with salt and lime (it was alarming to me that this is not common knowledge everywhere in the world, as it took me 10 minutes to explain it to a waiter in Yosemite National Park).
Our different taste in beer is a pretty good metaphor for the rest of our differences. He’s mysterious, minor-key, and and meticulous. I’m…not any of that.
Over years of marriage, from what I’ve heard, you start to know things about each other. Important stuff like, what cacao percentage to choose (70% for Bekah, 80% for Lewis). Which color of clothing will be a hard sell (purple, for Lewis). Which herbs to avoid (cilantro, for Bekah).
But there’s something really really special about the first time someone successfully pegs your drink order. You go out, it’s really crowded, and you finally manage to find a place to perch. Before you can even peruse the list, your partner senses the urgency of having drinks-in-hand, disappears to the bar, and comes back holding exactly what you would have ordered.
Lewis does that for me, and he also knows those deeper differences. He can order my drink, squeeze my hand at the right time, and know that my storms will pass. He knows me.