Cocaine Cowboy

I live where there is plenty of snow during the winter.  That means you shovel.  I shovel my driveway, the steps, a path in the backyard for the dog, I shovel whatever needs shoveling.  I was shoveling yesterday when I noticed the patterns I had inadvertently made in the snow.  They looked like giant lines of cocaine.

From 1993 to 1994 I had a prolific cocaine addiction.  I have been clean for 16 years, I still feel a shiver down my spine when I see people snorting in a movie.  These giant cocaine lines made me think of that, what the addiction felt like; how wonderful being high on coke feels like, the infernal down and the anticipation of the next line.  In the bottom of the spiral abyss of the addiction life really did not mean much, just like scenes passing by the car window.  I wish I knew then what I know now.

I mean, I wish I knew how bad and dark cocaine gets, not because I wouldn't have tried it or used it, but because I would have known when it would turn that corner from awesome to depressing.  I think it would have been a larger mental fortitude challenge to stop than it was to quit.  Cocaine was my first time to cut an addiction cold turkey, the second one was cigarettes.