I casual slide my drinking concern into the conversation,
“I can’t remember the last time I didn’t drink at night…
At least two months. Maybe more:”
I see the gears moving in your head.
“It’s okay.” You say.
So sweet, and also enabling.
You end the conversation with a pact.
Don’t drink, and you’ll buy me one when you come home.
This means at night, when we both become weak in the knees.
If I drink between now and December 23rd, only coffee. And only in the morning.
This means a morning goodbye,
but let’s be real. probably not, because what is self control?
It’s the thought that counts.
1,048 miles away and you’re still trying to help me.
I’ve wanted to stop drinking almost every day.
Yet every night I open a beer, pour a glass of wine, or run to the store for a drink.
Tonight I have a new foundation to push through.
We both know that it’s really just for me.
Your concern warms my body.
Your smile warms my soul.
Your eyes warms my heart.
Yet my whole body shakes with fear.
What are we doing?