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February 2015

Now I get it

Shaking and scared, a newcomer recalls his mom's early days in AA.

It’s September 15th, 2013, and I feel like hell. It’s almost 7 P.M. and I’m sitting in the basement of a church I’ve never been in before. I’m hunched over in my metal chair with a styrofoam cup in one hand and my cell phone in the other. On my lap rests this blue-colored book. The weather is beautiful outside, but from the sweatpants, thermal shirt and wool skullcap I’m wearing, you would’ve thought it was snowing.

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