I saw him before I heard him.
He was huge and sinewed and quiet, the most dangerous kind.
I wanted to be anywhere but there, but there I sat, frozen with fear, unable to take my eyes away.
I was thinking that if you were at war and you had the choice of one person standing beside you, this was that guy; which was quickly followed by the dreaded thought that if he wanted to rip my head off my shoulders and crap down my neck, there was nothing I could do about it.
While that thought was taking root, I heard him speak.
“I’m an alcoholic. If I take 1 drink I will not stop until everything is gone and I’m lying in a ditch. If It was my will I’d still be out there drinking. But because I turn my will over each day I avoid the first drink. ”
He went on to talk about how weak he was and how every day he got down on his knees and prayed to God.
I never knew his name and I don’t know when I began to breathe again, but I know I was changed.
15 days later I lost the obsession to drink, September 15th 2004.