PO Box 1980

I'll be celebrating two years in another month. I keep thinking of the time when I couldn't stay sober thirty days. The thing that most impressed me was those little shiny medallions that recognized sobriety time. If I had nothing else to show, my medallions were the physical objects I could feel, touch, and read. I can look at my nine-months chip and remember that we buried my father three months before and I didn't drink or get high by another method. My one-year chip reminds me that just two months before, my dear grandfather had died of a bout with cancer.