I’m a huge wine lover. HUGE. Like, bigger than huge.

Just Drink the Good Wine   www.herviewfromhome.com

Each year, myself and a couple of friends do a trip to a wine region and with each trip I fall more and more in love with wine and all of the accessories that accompany it. I tend to not only buy a LOT of wine but also a plentiful variety of cheese boards, bottle stoppers, fancy serviettes and cheese knives. Over the years, I’ve purchased many amazing wines. Wines that are almost too good for me to drink once I get home unless I can 150% justify to myself that it’s the right occasion and the right company to share it with.

I feel so guilty buying these amazing wines and then letting them do nothing except collect dust until an honest justification can occur for me to be able to enjoy it. The whole point of purchasing them is of course, to drink them. Or, in unfortunate circumstances, give your $390 bottle of wine to your mother to look after while you move house only to find it open in her fridge; the cork hacked out, then strained through a pair of stockings to remove excess cork, before adding it to her spaghetti bolognaise. But, that’s a different story!

Good wine, in many ways, is similar to all of those other ‘fancy’ things that we all tend to have in our homes, but never use. Basically, I’m referring to all of those special things sitting in the sideboard/china cabinet/buffet/display cabinet (I’m not sure what the U.S translation is – sorry) such as your great-grandmother’s tea set, the fine china, crystal wine glasses, and the Royal Doulton. The stuff that we NEVER use (or in my case, NEVER drink) because we just can’t justify it. 

Every now and then though, something happens that shines a light on these hidden treasures and puts it all into perspective. This ‘something’ happened to me just yesterday.

A while back you may have read the story about my brother and the fatal car accident that he was involved in just near the little rural school where I work. Yesterday, there was another fatal car accident just near there. I had left school only 15 minutes before the accident occurred and was able to reach the nearest town safely. Sadly, I passed the west-bound vehicle that was involved during that journey; little did they or anyone else know what was about to happen.

Although I did not witness the accident, it rattled me. For this to happen again, on the same stretch of road, within only a tiny, short distance of where my brother’s accident occurred; this was enough to totally smack me in the face. Too close. It was far too close to myself and my family’s situation and heartache. I remember all too well what it was like to receive that phone call. I wept last night for the family members of those involved who would have received that call as a result. Everyone is somebody to someone.

The thing is, that since my brother’s accident and the devastation, stress, anger and heartbreak that my parents and family have endured since; I know that I am not, under any circumstances permitted to cause any emotional upset. No waves. No disappointment. I don’t know if my parents could survive this again. And yesterday was far too close. Too close in proximity. Too close as the only route on my one hour commute to work. Too close in timing.

It wasn’t until I had two of my parents from school and several friends on Facebook contact me to make sure I’d arrived home safely, to realise that that could have been anyone. It could have been me. It could be me next time. I realise how dramatic this sounds as a type it, but if it was any other stretch of road, I wouldn’t be.

When I got home, grateful and shaken, I sat and glanced over at things in my China cabinet. I spied my antique hollow stem wine glasses and it sparked a thought in my mind. Life is short and it can change in an instant. What if that special occasion never comes? What if it’s all wasted? So I made a decision. A decision to just use it all. I got my grandmother’s hollow stemmed wine glasses out, went to the wine fridge, chose an expensive bottle of wine I’d been ‘saving’ and opened it and drank. All of it. Every last drop. And you know what? I don’t regret it for a second. 

As I enjoyed it, I rang my parents to tell them I loved them.

Live for today. Regret nothing.


So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our new book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Tash Guthrie

I’m Tash and I’m a full time primary school teacher, a business owner, business coach and a busy mum. I live on a beautiful rural property on the Far North Coast of NSW Australia with my gorgeous hubby and baby girl, Amelia. I adore wine, cheese platters and parking my butt in front of a good renovation or property TV show. I am so incredibly passionate about women in business and have coached hundreds of women to build businesses from home that support their family, nurture their true self and create a flexible lifestyle, completely on their terms. You can visit me over at www.tashguthrie.com.au

Growing Slowly around the Grief of Losing Your Mom

In: Grief, Loss
Sad woman sitting on couch with folded arms

Everyone has heard about the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Society often assumes the stages of grief happen in order, but those who encounter grief know that’s not true. Undergoing grief can feel like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded—disorienting and chaotic. There are numerous ups, downs, and twists you wouldn’t anticipate. Grief is like an ocean. When waves come crashing, it feels like you’re being swept away. Regardless of their size, waves are always rough. Despite everything, you also get pushed forward to the shore after every wave. Sometimes, you may feel like you are drowning...

Keep Reading

The Shattering Grief of Suicide

In: Grief, Living, Loss
Sad person sitting in darkened hallway, black and white image

Navigating through my second Christmas without my dad, the weight of grief seemed even heavier this year. In fact, everything felt and looked different to me. As I unwrapped the ornaments and cards he gave me over the years, a tidal wave of madness and sadness engulfed me. I know many feel sadness and grieve during these times, but let me just say . . . suicide is a different type of grief. My vibrant, happy, physically fit dad committed suicide on April 30th, 2022. There, I said it. In the aftermath, a myriad of emotions consumed me. One perplexing...

Keep Reading

Dear Dad, Maybe You’re the Bird

In: Grief, Loss
Young girl sitting on father's lap, older color photo

Maybe you’re the bird. The one I see outside my door. The one who flies so low it seems you’re somehow weighted down. Like you’re carrying more than just yourself. Like you’re carrying a message. Just for me. Maybe you’re the rain. The sound I hear that reminds me so much of home. Of you. Of driving in your car as a little girl when you looked over and asked my opinion about everything. When you made someone so small feel so very big. RELATED: Dad Left a Legacy in Fried Green Tomatoes Maybe you’re the butterfly. The one I...

Keep Reading

I Hope You Never Know What it’s Like to Forget Who You Are

In: Grief, Living, Loss
Woman staring at camera, black-and-white photo

I write best when I’m passionate. It’s always been my release. But lately, I’ve struggled to write. I’ve struggled to find purpose in my words. It’s all been twisted and choppy, not a bit poetic or beautiful. These feelings are what the struggles of loss, parenting, work, and marriage push against. It’s finding yourself over and over again and trying to make sense of the senseless. It leaves you questioning most things and leaves you feeling broken with no idea how to put yourself or others back together. I hope you never know. I hope you never know what it’s...

Keep Reading

I Don’t Know How to Live Without My Sister, But I Must

In: Grief
Sisters smiling in posed color photo

I’ve spent a year of my life living in a haze. Holding my breath, afraid to exhale. Focusing on staying in this frozen moment where there is no reality. I pressed the pause button. Pumped the brakes. I’ll stay right here and wait for my life, life as I knew it, life as I loved it, to come back around. Where there is no future to mourn, thinking about the way it should have been and no torturous past to remember, recalling the horror of that day. The special occasions that will come are now outlined in sadness. Wait, she’s...

Keep Reading

6 Ways to Be a Friend to Someone Grieving

In: Friendship, Grief, Loss
Friends hugging

Grief can truly be such a lonely experience after you lose a loved one. The loneliness isn’t necessarily because you don’t have anyone around you. It’s because only you had your relationship with the person who died, and it’s hard to find anyone to replace that. I have first-hand experience. My mom died recently and unexpectedly at the age of 62 and I at the age of 34, and it single-handedly has been one of the most painful experiences of my life. However, having support from family and friends will help you navigate this difficult time. Without it, the loneliness...

Keep Reading

These Final Gifts from My Mom Are Hard to Let Go

In: Grief, Loss
Little girls boots with worn toes, color photo

My daughter wobbled toward me in silver, square-toed go-go boots, one heel dislodged and flopping against our hallway’s faux wood floor. On her opposite foot, a striped sock peaked curiously through the growing toe hole. “Mama,” she said. Her tiny voice raised another octave, “My shoe!” I sighed, then sat on the floor. Waves of grief washed over me as I contemplated what kind of glue might capably reconstruct the shoe’s sole. Elmer’s glue? Textile glue? Maybe Krazy Glue? I knew the boots should just go into the bin. And yet, they—along with a vibrant, overbearing cat dress that would...

Keep Reading

A Daughter Is Never Ready To Let Her Dad Go

In: Grief, Loss
Grown daughter hugging older man

I wasn’t ready to let you go. When I was a little girl, one of my greatest fears was that something would happen to my parents. If they had to go somewhere, I would nervously follow their route in my mind, mentally noting where they probably were and when they should be back home. If they hadn’t returned by the time I thought they should, my imagination would get the best of me as I pictured a thousand things that could have happened. But the day I sat having a late breakfast at my kitchen table and saw an ambulance...

Keep Reading

Memories of Mom Are Everywhere

In: Grief, Motherhood
Family campsite with bikes, tents, and totes, color photo

Two weeks after my daughter was born, my dad drove from Pennsylvania to our home in Florida to stay with me for the week. I was nursing my daughter on the couch when my dad drug in four humongous plastic storage bins and staged them next to the Pack ‘N Play in the living room. The bins were full of my baby clothes, baby shower cards, a silver spoon, plastic and probably lead-infused rattles, and two cellophane balloons neatly folded. A time capsule of my babyhood. I thought of my mom’s hands being the last to touch these items. Had...

Keep Reading

Don’t Forget the Heartbroken Mothers

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Woman sad sitting on couch

The loss I recently experienced hit differently than others I’ve experienced. I thought that with three kids already in tow, it wouldn’t ache quite this bad. But it has. I don’t know if it’s because I was further along or because my entire household was over-the-top giddy and excited for this precious new life to enter the world. Perhaps it was the trauma of how everything happened or because I actually gave birth to him and held him. RELATED: We Lost Our Baby at 17 Weeks Pregnant Attending my first appointment to confirm the loss was brutal. I was surrounded...

Keep Reading