The end of the semester draws forth. Normally, it would be a good time—burden of grades and complaining students soon over. But I draw out the remaining time, dawdling, hoping that someone or something rescues me. Truth is, I want this semester to last forever. The days have become comfortable…
2 CommentsTag: alcoholism
The depression spring brings me also leads to greater things. A sense of melancholy strikes me. (Not sadness, but a contemplative pensiveness.) I seek the quiet and begin to put life into perspective. I stare into space, facing what my uncle calls “the gap between the material world and another…
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When we adopted my son Nick, he was four and a half years old. He came out of a supremely difficult situation. His mother, my sister, went down the meth hole. She had been using the drug (and others) for years, decades, before she got pregnant. She also drank compulsively,…
8 CommentsThe worst drunk dreams usually come in the middle of the night. They creep into my sleep, giving no warning. Nothing during the previous day or any dreams or waking that night presage the horror. Without cause, they pester my me, get into my deepest sensibilities. They are so real…
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