For the Love of Beer
December 18, 2018
Pondering the abstinence of brews.
Through the rain-splattered window I watch as neon signs marking late-night establishments whip past, a tell-tale sign that my trolley stop was close. I catch a glimpse of a local favorite of mine, a place where I can indulge in both brews and bites. They didn’t have the best vegan wings in town, but it sure was convenient. I recalled the last time I had frequented there, two weeks prior. Or was it three? The days seem to be blurred. That night I had stumbled home.
I step off the trolley and breathe in the crisp night air, pulling on my hoodie as a rain drop hits my cheek. I glance across the street to another favorite bar of mine, where they offer 30+ beers on tap and consistently friendly service. It looked cozy as a Christmas tree in there, with string lights twinkling and colorful beer signs alit.
I begin the short walk home, my resolve starting to waiver. What was I trying to prove? An occasional beer wouldn’t hurt. Was complete abstinence really necessary? I hear laughter behind me and turn. A group of friends boisterously make their way across the road, headed to unwind together and share camaraderie. Realization hits me painfully in the chest: with booze, comes friendship. Since moving to the city, all of my social interactions had involved alcohol consumption, sometimes in copious amounts. I enjoyed all of these experiences – that wasn’t the problem. The concern was how dearly I paid for these moments of unadulterated freedom and perceived invincibility; days or sometimes weeks of living with consequences, dealing with mental, physical, and financial repercussions.
Still, maybe I could stop at just one? I walk up to a stoplight, stepping back as a massive Coors Light truck barrels across the intersection. "World's Most Refreshing Beer." I can’t help but chuckle out loud. The moment felt deliberate.
I begin to wonder, am I being called to drink because it really is a harmless activity when done in moderation, or is this all the result of years of subconscious programming? There was no debate about it, alcohol is heavily advertised and normalized in society. My mind races as I continue my walk home. I struggle to determine what to believe. Am I being too hard on myself by eschewing delicious, intoxicating beer? Or is this a positive change I need to make in my life? My thoughts finally settle on one truth: it had only been six days since my last drink. Certainly not long enough to escape the withdrawal period – the habitual one, at least.
I arrive at the entrance to my home, taking in the stark, winter landscaping and naked branches. In Portland the transformation from fall to winter still felt extreme to me; full, rainbow-colored leaves gave way to sparseness and simplicity as Mother Nature’s core is bared. I recall my appreciation of the vibrant summer life when first moving in, dodging spider webs and their massive, fat hosts while observing the amusing antics of several local squirrels.
Nature's evolution feels significant: the annual cycles of growth and loss result in profound transformations. I pause for a moment in the silence before entering my empty apartment.
