Lost, found friend: a Vineyard Promise
A Wine Microstory by Veronica L.
The scent of fermenting grapes hangs in the air. A symphony of sweet and earthy notes.
Instantly, I think of my grandfather and his cellar. If he hadn’t died prematurely, I would be working there today. But grandma decided to sell everything in exchange for a significant sum of money. That choice allowed her to raise her three children, including my mother. Life must not have been easy for her.
And yet, looking at the photos of the grandfather I never knew, I always tried to imagine my life with him among the vineyards of the Tuscan hills. It would have been beautiful.
The desire to work in a family environment pushed me to respond to the ad for a position as an oenologist at an emerging winery.
I walk into the dimly lit office, nervous about the interview. And then I saw him. Luca. I am paralyzed for a few seconds. I think about walking away. I will never get through the interview. He will never give me that job. I am in front of my ex best friend. The person with whom I shared the most beautiful and intense moments of my youth.
Those teenage years rush back in a dizzying swirl of shared jokes, stolen cigarettes behind the church, and the raw, aching pain of our falling out. It had been over a girl, a silly misunderstanding fueled by teenage pride. A fight, harsh words, and then, silence. Life has taken us on separate trajectories, mine leading me to vineyards in France, wineries in Argentina, and finally, back here, to this small corner of Italy.
He’s changed, of course. The boyish features have sharpened, etched with the lines of responsibility and hard work. But the eyes, that mischievous glint, are unmistakable. He recognized me too.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy with unspoken words. I braced myself, ready for the potential hostility. The mind wants to go away but the feet remain fixed on the floor.
Then, suddenly, a slow smile lights up his face and the lost years seem forgotten.
“Mirko?” He asks, his voice a little rough.
“Luca.” I reply, between a mixture of embarrassment and emotion. We don't delve into the past immediately. Instead, we talk about the winery, his vision, and my expertise. But the unspoken hang between us, a silent plea for resolution.
“That girl…Breaking up a friendship for a girl is always stupid, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. But at that age, love is almost always a more powerful relationship.”
We talk about regret, the wasted years. Our youthful foolishness, the stubborn pride that has kept us apart. The tension is replaced by a sense of peace.
More than a job opportunity, this winery can offer me something much more precious: the chance to recover a friendship lost over time.
As I walk through the vineyards with Luca I know something special is brewing. Not just in the barrels, but in the air between us. We have a lot of catching up to do. But standing here, breathing in the earthy scent of the land, I know that our friendship, like a fine wine, is finally ready to be uncorked and savored. And this time, we wouldn’t let anything spoil the taste.