There is a story that needs to be told. From the time I was a young girl, I curled up against the bed frame, with pen to paper writing the story of how I wish things were. I lived in a fantasy, I wrote about happy endings. I long to write those fanciful stories about my life, the silver lining, the starry skies, the first kiss.

I had sworn to myself that I would not end up like my parents. I swore I would never smoke cigarettes, I would never drink alcohol and I certainly, most definitely would never do drugs.

It was a warm summer night and my neighbor’s granddaughters were visiting. They had called me over when I was heading to my house. They had something they wanted to show me.

I skipped over to the girls, one was my age, one a few years older. They were sisters. They had beautiful blonde hair and were very popular in my school. I was excited to be in their presence.

The older sister took something out of her pocket.

“Have you ever smoked a cigarette?”

Well it’s not like I didn’t know what they were. For years, my father had given me money for the cigarette machine at the store around the corner.

He would take out his stopwatch,”Are you ready to beat your last time?”

“Yes Daddy, I’m ready.”

I was thin and I was fast.

“On your mark, get set, go.”

I would fly out of the house and run as fast as I could down our street, turn the corner, run another street and cross the street to the market. I would run into the store, through the front door and make it to the cigarette machine. Put in the change and pull the lever of my dad’s brand. The pack would slide down, I’d reach in, grab the pack and run out of the store and back home.

“You beat your last time! Good job, Moe Moe!”

I’d give my Daddy a hug and go out to the street. I was a street kid.

So I wasn’t shocked when I saw the pack of Parliaments Alice had pulled out of her pocket.

“No, I have never smoked a cigarette” Nor did I ever want to I thought to myself.

“Here, try it.” Alice said after she lit the tip of the cigarette. She puffed In and puffed out a cloud of smoke.

“No, thanks.”

“What are you chicken?”

This went on, back and forth, until I caved.

“Okay, let me try.”

I pulled in on that first cigarette against my better judgement. Coughed a bit, and tried again. I hate to say that sometime after that, I was hooked. I think I was in 6th grade. I blame no one but myself. I went against my better judgment.

Several years later, I had started drinking, alcohol. I loved the effect of nicotine and alcohol. I was about 17 or 18 and I was with my first love and another couple. We had gone skiing for the weekend.

I found myself in the bathroom with my first love. He was telling me that I had to do the cocaine with them or they would not feel the effect of the drug. We argued for a long tine. I caved again. I tried it. Thank God I hated it. He wound up being a drug dealer.

This is what I need to remember. Not the first kiss, not the innocence of first love but the dark side of the relationship. The truth….

Today I am sober 37 years. From where I came from, this is truly a miracle. I am grateful for the life I live today.

Memories….My memories are scattered, the pictures are just moments in time. The smiles were there to hide the pain. I pray my life may be an example of love, of kindness, of service, of hope.

I am far from perfect. I am no saint. Today, I struggle with forgiveness.

For tonight dear one, I know that I had to stop drinking because it wasn’t working anymore. It wasn’t numbing the pain anymore, it wasn’t working anymore. That was only the first step for me though, but it was a step I had to take.

I come from a grandmother who died at 48 of cirrhosis of the liver, my father who died at 54 of cirrhosis of the liver. A whole family line of alcoholics.

I want to share my story with you because I hope in knowing where I came from, you will know that miracles happen everyday. At times, my story will seem tragic, but don’t despair, for there will be a rainbow after the storm, and the sun will rise tomorrow.

I leave you with this, sweet dreams….

“Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.”

― Rabindranath Tagore