“I was caught somewhere between a woman and a child Ā Ā
When one restless summer, we found love growing wild Ā Ā
On the banks of the river on a well beaten path Ā
It’s funny how those memories they lastĀ
Like strawberry wine and seventeen …
I still remember when thirty was old … “
Deana Carter’s “Strawberry Wine,” was a country favorite of mine when I was a teenager. Back then, it was the love story attached to it that I enjoyed. I remember belting out the lyrics in my room, in my mother’s home. I remember wondering if Boone’s Farm counted as strawberry wine. And I remember thinking “Well, thirty IS old.”
And then I got caught up in college. My musical tastes changed a bit. I no longer lived with my mother. And my free time for singing in my room, was taken up with four jobs and 18 credits/semester and boyfriends who distracted me. Love was less ofĀ ‘a fantasy’ and more ‘real life’ than it had ever been before. And strawberry wine wasn’t even a thought. Beer pong, shots and rum and coke were the tastes of my college days.
But before I could graduate, before I could even make-up my mind about life and love, I found myself, quite surprisingly, a “Momma” at twenty-one. Love was complicated and so was life. Walking the stage with a one-year-old, working nights, I was too exhausted to drink or sing or even think about how old I was or what music I liked, or what anything I liked. I liked sleep-something I never got enough of.
By my mid-twenties, life and love were starting to make a little more sense and we added number two to the brood. Within two months of becoming a family of four, we bought a house and got married. And then we got a puppy. I was chasing two tots now, plus a pup and still working nights. I was painting the new house and signing up for preschool. The only music that played back then was nursery rhymes and Nickelodeon tunes and the screams of my two small children. Every night I flopped into bed, again exhausted. And wine and age still didn’t matter.
At twenty nine, I started to find myself again. My husband and I had our first getaway, eight years after becoming parents, to Chile, to meet his family. Everyone told me how “young” I was, surprised I guess, at how settled I was for my age. And in the country where wine is cheaper than water, I fell in love with the fermented fruit beverage. We even found a winery in our home state that made wonderfully sweet fruit wine. Our favorite, was of course, Strawberry.
And now, in the later half of my thirties, somewhere amongst the busyness of career and family building, I passed that mile marker that I so often sang about. I passed thirty. And I know I’m not old. Yet, somehow I’m the mother of a high-schooler and a middle-schooler. And gray hair is beginning to replace my mousey brown. I’m back to four jobs again; but this time, each one addresses a talent or identifies a component of myself, instead of just serving monetary means-though that certainly matters as well! My body is slightly less tired than when my children were tots but my mind is overwhelmingly so. I like many genres of music. I have a few close friends. My family means the world to me. I don’t have time for bull shit and I don’t apologize for who I am. Fighting for the greater good is always important to me. And my vacations are just as fulfilling as my careers.
Love and life, I’ve learned is never mastered, ’cause it changes as we age; but I’m thankful that I have both lived and loved well.
I love wine, but I’m more of a Cabernet girl now-dark and bold and just dry enough to make you smack your mouth without tasting oaky. But sometimes my husband sweetens it up by adding diced strawberries and a sprinkle of sugar and turning it into Chilean BorgoƱia (recipe post below).
A lot has changed in the last 20+ years, since I first sang those words. Life, love and motherhood have taken many twists and turns. Most of which, I could have never predicted. No longer a child in my mother’s home, but a mother myself in a home that is my own, with a husband that sustains me, the meaning of the words hold a different weight now. And the love story is less significant than the theme of loss and remembrance.
My husband will hear the tune come on and say “Go ahead babe, take it away….” He’ll turn up the volume and the kids will roll their eyes. And I will once again belt out the lyrics of “Strawberry Wine.” For those few minutes, I’ll remember what it was like when I was seventeen, “caught between a woman and a child.” I’ll remember those “restless summers” and the ‘bittersweet taste’ of life and love and the ‘loss of innocence’. And I can never decide if I feel closer to seventeen or thirty or eighty.
Whatever your stage of life, love, or motherhood, I hope you find yourself on your journey. I hope you take time to belt out lyrics. And I hope, just once, you taste the sweetness of Strawberry Wine.
Happy Mother’s Day!
Strawberry Wine Fizz
- 2 cups strawberries
- 2 cups lemonade
- 1 TBS sugar
- white wine, chilled
- sprite, seltzer or tonic water for fizz
Blend strawberries, lemonade and sugar in a blender and pour the mixture into ice-cube trays. Freeze. Once frozen add a few ice cubes to a glass, top with wine and a splash of your choice of sprite/seltzer/tonic for fizz. Drink as is, or blend. I used tonic and I blended it.
This is light and easy for anyone to drink. What’s even better, is that ice cubes are non-alcoholic, so kids and non-drinkers can easily make the virgin version by simply leaving out the wine.
And as referenced above, a Chilean version of borgoƱia using fresh strawberries and wine:
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