Nomadic Nurse Diaries

Oh, Portugal Red, elixir of $5 dreams,
You carry me beyond life’s everyday schemes.
In each sip, a whisper of roots unfurls,
A taste of Europe, my soon-to-be world.

Your bright, happy label—a yellow bird sings,
Surrounded by flowers and vibrant things.
It beckons escape, to lands I adore,
Where I’d trade these wheels for a cottage on shore.

Drinkable? Yes. Delicious, I’ll say—
Not that my palate would have it any other way.
What more could I want from this Costco find,
With hints of “freedom” aged in the rind?

In my trusty van, my adventure in tow,
You’re the romance I sought when I chose to go.
Every sip a reminder of the life I could lead,
A taste of Portugal, satisfying a need.

So here’s to you, with your budget grace,
Warming my soul in this tiny, free space.
I’ll savor this wine, let it carry me far,
As I dream of Europe beneath the van’s lone star.

Dear Wandering Wine Gods of Portugal (and the Kind Souls at Costco),

Tonight, I’m huddled in the van with the girls, savoring what may be the best $5 wine I’ve ever stumbled upon. Let’s be clear—I’m no connoisseur, but this Portugal red blend has that je ne sais quoi (or maybe, não sei o quê?) that makes it feel like I’ve uncorked a slice of Europe. As I sip, a little yellow bird and its floral entourage dance on the label, coaxing me to picture a life with roots—a life that feels like mine—in a part of the world I’ve always loved from afar.

In this moment, Portugal is all three things at once: an actual possibility, a half-dream, and a lovely way to romanticize tonight. With three big decisions, I could make it happen for real. There’s something magical in that idea of roots—a tiny home on a hillside, my own coat on a hook, maybe a cat-friendly sunspot by the window where we’d all curl up and just be. It’s a little surreal to think that this life on the road, a series of temporary stops, could lead to a place I could actually call home.

For now, though, the van’s my haven, and this little “taste of Europe” is enough to satisfy the wanderer in me. Each sip whispers of what could be: fresh mornings over Lisbon rooftops, lazy afternoons in a seaside café, and the feeling of finally setting down, if only for part of the year. Here’s to that beautiful illusion, brought to me by a $5 wine and a label that feels like a postcard from the future.

So cheers to dreaming big, to yellow birds, and to the belief that maybe—just maybe—someday I’ll trade this four-wheeled life for a nook in Portugal. But until then, I’ll savor this red, this moment, and this sweet, half-possible daydream under the stars.

Salud, Nomadic Nurse