From the March 2018 magazine.

Home again

Each year he takes flight, sometimes gracefully, and returns to the room where it all began

Like the swallows returning to the Mission at San Juan Capistrano every year, I always like to return to my first home group around the time of my anniversary. It’s a migratory pattern that helps me remember what it was like at the end of my drinking and the beginning of my sobriety.

Many of the same old faces are there: Robert the cello player, who I drank with down in the Village before we both got sober; Broadway Joe, who came off the Bowery in the 60s and reinvented himself as a country-western singer; Artie from Young People’s, who had a stroke a couple of years ago but keeps coming to meetings; and Old Pat, who invited me to his house more than 30 years ago for my first sober Thanksgiving.

-- Ames S.

New York, New York, USA

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