In October of 2014, less than a year after a revolution in Kyiv, Ukraine that removed the president, and only a few months after a Malaysia Airlines plane was shot down over Eastern Ukraine, I found myself on a flight to Kyiv. I had dreamed for years of seeing the beautiful and historic country where my parents grew up, and now with my children grown and a modest amount of money in my pocket, I could finally realize that dream. I pressed my face to the window to see the golden church spires and the winding Dnieper River gradually emerge as the plane descended. I was a little over four years sober.
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