I walked out of what was a slow night of work this morning to what I hope is winter’s last gasp. All our trees are leafing and budding out and I had my first phone call of the season to mow a lawn yesterday. We didn’t have a heavy frost, but the temperature was still hovering around freezing – cold enough for long johns and a heavy jacket if you were working outside. George was standing off to the side near the garden center smoking a cigarette and walked over when he noticed me walking out of the store. George seemed especially nervous this morning. I noticed he was fidgety and his hands were shaking.
“I don’t mean to pry, but when was the last time you honestly had a drink?” George asked me.
“Oh, it was about last June or July,” was my reply.
“Does it ever get easier? This not drinking thing?” George asked.
“You will still occasionally want a drink from time to time, but is does get easier,” I replied in all honesty and with the hopes to bolster George’s spirits. “You will gradually obsess over the urge to drink less and less. You grow to be less impulsive.”
George left me after finishing his cigarette and continued to bring in carts. I was worried about my friend on the drive home from work this morning. I was trying to think of “good” things we could do this weekend to take his mind off of drinking beer. George seems to ride this razor thin line between freedom and going back to jail. Personally? I have been amazed at how well he has done on parole. He is giving his mother the perfect gift a son could give – a gift of sobriety and calmness to their lives after years of substance abuse.