I just got home from a big Friday night meeting. It used to be a staple of my meeting schedule. Then most of its attendees died, as they do. It was packed tonight. I got to go to the 25th birthday of a man who got sober exactly one week before me. How wonderful. So many memories. So much love in that room. So many old friends, and even an old boyfriend or two.
I was urged to put my name on the calendar to celebrate my birthday next Friday, and I did. So, I will celebrate 25 years at this old meeting in an old building that doesn't even have air conditioning. I am hopeful this sweltering room will contain my friends. My sponsor may be here for it even.
I used to dislike people celebrating their birthdays at groups they don't regularly attend, but my attitude toward that has softened over the years. Tonight I got to ask the man who took me to my first meeting 24 years and 51 weeks ago if he thought it took a lot of "cojones" to do that. He said it is good for the group. That a lot of people celebrate there, and that is what that meeting usually is. Every Friday night - one, two, or three alkies celebrate, and their friends come and we always reminisce about the old days and the old guys. Dick S.'s widow was there tonight. It was good to see her.
When your home group is a 6:30 a.m. meeting, you end up celebrating your birthday somewhere else if you want any of your friends to come. So I will.
My daughter was at the meeting with me tonight. She got to say hello to the man who drove me to my first meeting - his sons babysat my kids that night... Now they are all grownups.
Time. It is magical when you are sober. Not my enemy at all. It is a miracle. A miracle.