Sharing Her Gifts

I started drinking at the age of fourteen, thirty-three years ago, in the quiet kitchen of my grandmother's house. Under the lower sink was a cupboard with a huge bottle of cooking wine. I siphoned off some of the wine and drank it, and I knew right then and there I would be back for more. A warm, soft glow relaxed my muscles, and I smiled and grinned to myself. It was a wonderful feeling, and I felt truly right with the world. I didn't know it at the time, but I was already predisposed, through intense emotional instability and painful shyness, toward alcoholism. The first drink just sealed my fate.