My bottom pulled my hold card to the table top. I turned it over and found I have a bit of value. Each time I turned over my will, my value increased. After many spins, the face cards appear; I’m the Jack, the Queen, the King. I revel in the time and practice it has taken to get here. I play my hand and take my chances. I have been privileged to pair with wonderful sober partners who turn themselves over and transform before my eyes. The years raise the ante and I play close to my chest. The stakes are high and if I turn in the wrong direction, I can be the Joker once again.
Smell your meals before you eat them.
When winter is almost at an end it becomes beautiful;
a theoretical thing, which though it may hurt you,
can not hurt you for long,
therefore is safely appreciated by mere mortals.
You don’t have to beg for God’s own protection,
Time has become a friend and winter only a show.
I will soon wake from this chilling fright,
will in fact thaw from it in short order
and needn’t fret though chilblains
still catch at me now and then.
I can stand at the window
admiring frost and ice formed lace;
intricate patterns whose beauty will soon be lost to me,
Put away in favor of crocus and daffodil.
The terrible loveliness of soon to pass trauma
is not lost on my hyper-vigilance
I grasp it, I just can’t seem to let it rest.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault