I went to the market to buy beer. I was wandering up and down the aisle, looking at all the local and near-local craft beers, and one of the employees looked at me, smiled, and asked, “Whaddaya need?”
What do I need?
I need some relief from the heat. I need a rain shower. I need a thunderstorm. I need to feel that storm. I need thunder and lightning. I need to go outside in the storm in all my clothes, outside in the wind and the rain, and get soaking wet. I need to run around and around the house barefooted in the thunderstorm, like I used to do as a kid (to my momma’s horror). I need to be able to run again, run like I could when I was 16 years old and still had knees that worked. I need to run and jump like a pagan in a storm. I need to run through the woods at night. I need to be alone in someplace very big and very wild. I need to feel the tension of being near a large, wild animal, holding my breath, trying to be still so it won’t know I’m there. I need to leap over bonfires. I need to leap over stone fences. I need to run and scream in wild delight and know that I’m still part of a natural world where wonderful and awful things can and will happen.
What do I need?
I told him I needed a simple summer lager from a semi-local craft brewery. Or maybe a local ale. Something that could hold its own against a sandwich made with provolone, ham, prosciuttini, cappacuolo, salami, and pepperoni.
I left with a six-pack of Backpocket Brewery’s Tipsy in Tijuana and a four-pack of Mistress Brewing’s Daisy Ale.