I went to the park today to take a walk in cold drizzle from a steel wool sky. The weather matches my mood.
There is memorial at the park for veterans. Across the lawn in tight rows there are little white crosses, signifying the casualties of war. They spread outward like fingers, crowned in miniature flags.
As I stared at the display, a thought occured to me:
What if I had a little white cross for every drink I took?
What if I had a little white cross for every relationship my disease affected?
What if I had a little white cross for every time I shook the day after, vomited, cried, slept and then woke up did it all over again?
Then another thought occured to me.
It would take a much bigger lawn to bear my crosses.
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