Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Hair (07/04/19)
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TITLE: Sobering Times | Previous Challenge Entry
By Corinne Smelker
07/09/19 -
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I peered blearily around the open fridge door, where I was greedily guzzling a bottle of beer. “Nothing much,” I croaked out.
“What are you drinking. May I have some?” Callie’s blue eyes met mine, and my heart melted.
“No. It’s just hair of the dog,” I answered thoughtlessly.
Callie moved quickly over to join me, “You’re drinking dog hair?”
“Um. No. I mean, hair of the dog that bit me.” Too late I realized I had just dug a deeper hole for myself.
“Nana! You got bitten by a dog? Are you ok?”
I closed the fridge slowly, leaving the opened beer inside. “I’m fine. Really. It’s just an expression. I didn’t get bitten by a dog and I’m not drinking dog hair!”
“Ok. But what a funny thing to say. Anyway, Mum asked me to see whether you wanted to come over for breakfast. It’s a Full English.”
My stomach lurched at the thought of bacon, fried bread, and greasy eggs. “No. I’m not feeling too well. How about I come over later today?”
Callie flashed a quick smile at me and made for the door, and with the honesty that only children have exclaimed, “Bye Nana. And Nana, you need a bath. You smell funny. Like the back of Mr. Sandeep’s shop where all the booze is.”
As soon as the back door closed behind her, I sank to the closest kitchen chair and laid my throbbing head on the cool wood of the table. This was getting worse. I hadn’t seen a truly sober day for 35 years, and only then because I was pregnant with Callie’s mom, Julia. Here I was, a 56-year old woman, and 40 of them had been mostly a blur. Oh, I had given up alcohol for brief periods of time, and I’d never been black-out drunk. Well, there was that one time where I tried to get out of a moving vehicle and eight-year-old Julia dragged me back, pleading, with pure terror in her voice. I did quit for almost a year then.
Callie’s blue eyes cut across the haziness of my mind’s eye. Right now those eyes were filled with love and innocence, but how quickly that could, and would change. How would I react, how would Julia react, if in five or six years’ time Callie started down the same path I was on? I couldn’t bear to disappoint my only grandchild. I’d successfully hidden my drinking from her because she was too young to know better, but those days were quickly coming to an end. I had to make this right. But there was no way I was attending AA! I couldn’t envisage myself sitting in cold, unwelcoming metal chairs and saying, “Hi my name is Beverly, and I’m an alcoholic.” But what else was there?
Suddenly I remembered a leaflet that had been stuffed through my letterbox along with the second post, and which I’d left on the table in the foyer. Slowly, holding my aching head in one hand, I walked over and rifled through the post until I found the flyer. “Celebrate Recovery”. Intrigued I read more, and gradually excitement began to build. Maybe this was my answer, and would help me to never see the same disappointment in Callie’s eyes that I had seen in her mother’s.
But first things first. I went back into the kitchen, pulled out all the liquor bottles and poured their contents down the sink. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right. No more, “It’s just one glass of wine,” for me.
Then I picked up the phone and dialed an unfamiliar number, “Oh hello. Is this Celebrate Recovery? When’s your next meeting? My name is Beverly, and I’m an alcoholic.”
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Celebrate Recovery is a Christ-centered programme that started in the USA and has branched out into several other countries. It focuses on the whole person and relationships.
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The dialogue paragraphs could use some spacing.
A very fun read on a serious topic. We all have "hurts, habits, and hang-ups" that Celebrate Recovery can help us through.