A Moment of Triumph
Today was my day. It had taken three hundred and sixty-five other days to reach this one and I claimed this one as mine.
We were using a new room, at least it was new to us, but it looked and smelled old and musty. Wood panelling on the walls had warped over the years, giving the room a squat and bowed look as if the ceiling was slowly crushing the building down into the ground. Folding chairs were stacked in uneven piles. Less than a dozen had been set up in a semi-circle under a single naked bulb whose light bleached the color out of everything it touched. No one else was around yet.
I felt torn. If nobody showed up, I wouldn’t have to embarass myself, but no one would be there to celebrate my accomplishment either. It had been difficult but I’d never given up, no matter how much it hurt.
In the empty room, I tried it once out loud. It started out as a whisper but somehow gained momentum and volume, ending as a triumphant shout.
“My name is Saul and as of today, I have been clean for a whole year!”