It was probably about 18 months into sobriety. It was a beautiful day. I was writing in my notebook outside the coffee shop; a light breeze, hot, but not too hot. I breathed in and was compelled to stop for a second and look around. Friends, each sober, each absorbed in an activity of relaxed importance. These beautiful people, and at this moment all of us, not a care in the world. Peaceful. Grateful. Productive. Happy. When was the last time I wanted to get drunk or high? I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t remember the last time I wanted to get drunk or high. And everything was fine.
