I’ve been up since 6am, unable to sleep with the images of J. sprawled out on the couch streaming on the Jumbotron in my mind. This morning H. stopped by J.’s house — he doesn’t remember us stopping by last night; he says he’s done; he says he’s ready to be sober again; he says he wants to go to a meeting this morning. After H. called, the phone rang and it was J., apologizing and crying. I told him he doesn’t need to be sorry; this is what alcoholics do when they fall off track. I don’t need to ask questions about why or how, or think about what could or should or would have been if only, or anything else. It just as easily could have been me, and I know this. Many prayers are needed today, and I’ll be the first one to say them — from a healthy distance. Namaste.