My Birthright Wine Became My Brother's Victory Toast

The year I was born, my grandfather buried a barrel of daughter's-wine sealed with my name.

He said I should drink it when I came of age, so that from then on I could swallow whatever was bitter and taste whatever was sweet.

My name was written on the red paper across the seal.

"When Sabby grows up, I'll open it for her myself."

But Grandpa never lived to see that day.

When I was ten, my mother made me quit school to tend the winery.

"There's no future in a girl studying. Better she earn money to put your brother through school."

I was a good girl. I nodded.