Today at the grocery store I ran into an old drinking buddy. He didn’t recognize me. It’s been several years since I realized drinking and spending all my off time in bars was a waste of time. For over ten years I was such a fixture in my local tavern the owner had a plaque with my name on it lacquered into the top surface of the bar where I normally sat.

Driving away from the store this morning I passed my old buddy as he walked along the road. He was a solemn figure walking along the road with a cigarette pinched between his lips and a small bag in his hand. From what I could tell, he appeared to be heading toward a low-cost housing unit. I don’t know him anymore, nor do I know if he is still drinking. But statistics say that most people who are long-term addicts do not escape alive.

In my case, I was one of the lucky few who recognized that my bad habit was growing toward addiction. I managed to escape before it was too late. Life is now good. But looking at my former friend today made me realize how fortunate I’ve been. Oh, but for the grace of God go I.

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