Last Call

I don't know how many years I lived on this planet before I knew that 2 am was last call and how much longer it was after that before I knew what that meant (not to mention how many years I lived in Utah and how I still don't understand what the liquor laws there mean).

It would be fair to say that I'm not much of a drinker. I mean, I have my faves: ginger ale, orange and cranberry juice, um...yup... that's about it. Call me a cab already. I'll have a shot of milk while I'm waiting...

But there's another kind of last call - the kind where you say farewell to someone you care about, something that means a lot to you. The wisdom of popular culture via Grey's Anatomy told us a few seasons back that we don't usually know that our last kiss will be our last.

They were right. I didn't see it coming. I didn't know.

He used to tell me that my goodbye kisses weren't goodbye kisses. I know. They were I love you kisses and I want to remember this moment forever kisses.

Except for the last kiss. It was a goodbye kiss. A quick, see ya later, goodnight goodbye kiss.

Serious bummer.

Don't we always want one more for the road?

So don't worry, I won't be driving tonight. No need to call me a cab. My diet Coke and I will be staggering to bed here in a minute.

And my last call: He was a very good year.