There are times in life were a drink feels necessary. Not to get drunk, just because it fits. A wake is one of these occasions.
My uncle Nicky passed away this weekend and his wake was today. Everyone liked him; In fact, I can’t recall him without a smile on his face. He was a barber until he retired. A barber in the true sense, barber’ pole, smock, old guys sitting around for no reason, the works. I used to get all my haircuts at his shop when I was young. I still remember him and that place, vividly. Even his smell. After I was done getting my haircut, he’d kiss me goodbye on my cheek. He always smelled of a talc/comb sterilizer combination and his scruff felt like sandpaper. I mean, he must have had a twelve o’ clock shadow. As I stood by his casket I swear I could smell his barbershop all over again. I’d sure like that drink.
17 days left.
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