Befriending an Alcoholic

Getting sober is like climbing a mountain -

a daily choice, one step at a time,

over and over - until weeks become months,

months, years.

As it is with integrity and love,

you never arrive at the top,

but become content with the climb.

I met a woman last year who wanted

what I have. I listened to her story

laced with justifications, rage, regret,

and offered to be a guide.

We traveled from basecamp,

through the icefields of her past,

over crevasses of childhood,

until we arrived at Camp One.

I listened, encouraged, tried to be

an example of a life well lived.

It's marvelous watching

humility come over someone

who's willing to let the elements

open them up, you are privy

to gifts and talents

bestowed on them by God.

It's intoxicating watching someone

fall in love with themself.

Was it Robert Downey Jr. who said,

Being sober isn't hard,

the hard part is deciding to be?

More than once, my friend trekked

down the mountain, had a night

on the town. We'd meet again

at basecamp – her with her self-loathing,

I with my vision of her soul –

and up we'd climb again.

A meeting a day, reading the Big Book,

prayers on her knees,

talking, crying and laughing

and laughing about the absurdity of life.

Then one day

she gave up,

preferring the bars and bistros of Kathmandu,

I haven't seen her since.

Perhaps she didn't like her own company

enough for that slow uphill climb.

It's doubtful I'll return to basecamp,

I'm inclined toward the company of my fellow mountaineers,

besides, I like the view.

If she wants to hang out with me,

she knows what to do.