“I have them in the freezer,” I tell my sponsor.
“I’m sure you do. When are you going to take them out and reenact spring?” her retort.
“I don’t want to take them out before I’m ready. I don’t want them to go to waste.”
“Oh, the Excuse Maker, the Staller. Are you going to drag all the old chestnuts out of the closet? I thought you were going to defrost strawberries.”
“Fear, you’re saying fear of strawberries is not a sign of stability?” I ask her.
“Eat the strawberries or not, but it seems to me you didn’t get sober to avoid the sweeter things in life, keeping all your goodness locked up in the deep freeze destined for frost bite.”
Let sunshine climb in your eyes and fall upon your heart.
I’m not Brian
I thought life was based on a system of
‘I will suffer and that will exempt you’.
Then I would be horrified when you suffered,
after I had already done so ahead of you.
In an attempt to ease my dismay I would look to see
who had broken the pact, you or me.
Had I not endured sufficiently to protect you?
Had you left the safety of the umbrella of sanctuary?
Panic gives birth to blame
and blame of course births nasty biting things
that run loose and bury in all the tender spots.
Now the goals I tend are to end the breeding
of those sharp and painful beasties,
stop laying my neck upon the alter
and start telling better jokes.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault