Have Yourself a Sober Little Christmas.

Four and a half years ago, I quit drinking.

It was a bright, sunny April day in Portland, Oregon.

I sat outside at the New Old Lompoc on Northwest 23rd with an old friend. We sipped half-stale champagne and talked about how totally epic the cherry blossoms were.

The conversation paused, and I heard a voice inside of me say, “Enough.”

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