Hi Renee,
So glad to hear you are sober in Mexico. Esta bien!
Sober fun is the best. One of the profoundest joys of sobriety has been the realization that, for me, life's true pleasures are to be found in walking along the beach, reading, exercising, listening to music, going to museums, and writing smart-ass vacation travelogues.
When I was drinking, I probably would have dismissed these simple pleasures as part a boring life. Secretly, though, I yearned for them. I knew that what I was doing, while "exciting" in a certain way (cops, sirens, medical emergencies, tense courtroom dramas...), was in fact boring beyond measure. It was the same damned thing every day, day after day, year after year. Booooooooring. It made any mindless office job I've ever held seem thrilling by comparison. The bar, again, The liquor store, again. Passed out on the floor, again. Back to the bar. Hey, let's all hear that hilarious story again about the time we got drunk in this here bar. Tell it again, it's soooo funny and interesting.
A long time ago, on a clear summer night, I left a loud, crowded, smoky bar and joined my one and only non-alcoholic friend on a bench by the ocean's edge. We talked about life, movies, politics, art, music, and all sorts of things. He always was one for learning, for exploring the rich depths life has to offer those who seek. He was also a sociable guy who liked to have a beer or two. But he never understood the death-grip that alcohol had on me.
From time to time we would look back across the dunes toward the bar, its oozing neon and pulsing woofer leaching out into the environment each time the door opened and discharged another belching drunk.
"Kev," he said at one point, sweeping his arm across the beach, the ocean, the universe itself. "THIS is what it's all about."
So Renee, pick up a handful of sand for us. Let it run through your fingers and fall back lightly to the earth. We are prisoners no more.