The Last Drunk
The day started unlike any other of the past decade. I was sober, well rested, cradled by 3000 count sheets at the L’Auberge Del Mar. The white down and my daughter’s body created a warm, fluffy nest of hope and gratitude. Thirteen days earlier I had attended an AA meeting in Phoenix. I sat in a grey plastic folding chair with a cup of bad coffee. I listened. I judged. After the meeting a stranger approached me. “You belong here. Do 90 in 90. Get a sponsor. Work the steps.”