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April has been encouraging me to start sponsoring.
“But I’m not ready,” I protest. “I have no clue how to help someone else.”
She blows on her hibiscus and honey tea and arches an eyebrow.
“Besides, what if I get a sponsee who’s a hot mess?”
“You mean like you used to be?”
“Exactly.”
Through the open window, I can hear Howie and the girls playing a contented game of tag in their perfectly-manicured backyard.
“Not it!” someone screams.
“Got you!”
A gleeful chuckle. A bird chirps to a friend. King’s wing is fully healed. Any day now, I plan to take her to a nearby wildlife preserve and let her fly. Away.
“Seriously, April, I can’t get someone like that sober.”
My sponsor takes a sip of her now appropriately-temperatured tea. “You can’t get anyone sober. Only a Higher Power can
