Holiday weekends are real triggers for me, but by now I recognize this. Besides, the mild weather made me miss smoking on my porch more than I missed drinking, though I wasn’t completely off the hook.
I got off work early on Good Friday and used the free half day to go grocery shopping and clean out my closet. I know, sober life is exciting. On my way to the grocery store, I thought how a year ago I would’ve hit the bar down the road from my office first for a little holiday weekend kickoff that would have ultimately made grocery shopping even more tedious. My kind of drinking fit with the kind of life where I could weave home from the bar and commence to porch drinking and smoking and nothing else. I am glad I never got that life, though eventually I would have.
Last Easter was different too. We went to brunch in the morning and I remember I had two beer mimosas (don’t ask) and several drafts and then I loaded my kids and a surly, stinky groundhog into my car and drove to a nature preserve. The story isn’t as interesting as the previous sentence might imply, it was just that this memory was sharp and fuzzy at the same time in the way a lot of my memories were from my last year of drinking. I carry a lot of regret at how reckless I had become. I had a lot of luck I do not deserve.
This Easter we had brunch and then took a leisurely stroll around serene gardens, and the only regret I have to live with is how much candy I ate in the afternoon. But this is something I can live with.