Why am I here?

It came around to Ellen’s turn. She read from the piece of paper. “Describe an incident where you lost control of yourself.”

I had liked her immediately, an older lady wearing an older lady’s blue dress with a white lace sweater. A regal smile, a diamond – not too large, but a size that advertised both wealth and modesty – and a sophisticated pitch to her New Hampshire accent.

She talked about vacationing with her husband and her brother (I still didn’t know what that meant) in the Adirondacks – and her brother went into a CVS with her husband and tried to steal a bottle of Listerine. He put it in his pocket and walked right out of the store and back into the car.

Ellen’s husband calmly got back into the car and sat with his hands at the wheel. “Your brother stole a bottle of Listerine,” he said to Ellen and then turned to her brother. “I told the management inside and they’ve promised not to prosecute if you go back and either pay for it or return it.”

Ellen went beet red and then exploded. “How could you do such a thing to yourself, Gerald, and to us? Haven’t you learned anything?”

I kept picturing the bottle of Listerine – and the addiction – and what that bottle meant for Ellen’s family. It was my turn now, and I had to talk about the effect alcohol addiction had had on my own family. And me.