You know how sometimes a turn of phrase just kills you, and every time you think of it you get a rush of fondness for the person who said it and a little lonesome for the time/place that inspired it? Well, of all of them, this one’s my favorite:
We used to play in a soccer tournament in the Spring in San Antonio at some hardscrabble fields just off I-35, and every year the wind would blow our whole world sideways. We couldn’t see for the grit, and we’d usually get our asses kicked by at least a couple of teams, and we’d pile into hotel rooms where the little fridge wasn’t enough for the warm beer we’d brought. At the end of the weekend, we’d be tired and dusty and hungover. During one of the trips home, Kristy was driving and even she was dragging ass – a surprise, since she is the most fun, positive person I know – and started pulling off towards a convenience store. She then said the truest thing:

“You know what sounds good? A nice fresh Coke.”

I’d never heard the words strung together like that, but by god it worked: we got our fountain drinks and felt like the luckiest people on earth when we took the first icy, bubbly sips. Thanks, Kristy, for saving us, for driving us, and for being the kind of healthy person who makes the world a better place through humor, patience and kindness, but who will take advantage of the healing properties of a nice fresh Coke when needed.