Out of the Nest
I found my way up the wooden, rickety stairs of a San Fernando clubhouse in June of 1986. There were five women and eight screaming children, and I was absolutely sure that my life was over. I would never see daylight again that was not filtered through layers of cigarette smoke and the smell of (what I now know is) AA coffee. There would never be fun or laughter again. I would never know another lover or friend who had an ounce of personality, and I would grow old just like those five 40-year-old women I saw sitting around those AA tables.
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