I almost never have time alone at home. Charlie doesn’t work and he’s a real homebody, so he’s usually in our house whenever I am. I’m alone on the road when I travel, but almost never, ever within the walls of my home. Charlie’s just always around, making me laugh, keeping me company helping me out…telling me how to boil water, feed the cat, organize the kitchen cupboards. Charlie, you see, is a bit of a hoverer.

Well, Charlie spent all of last weekend away, helping his brothers and sisters sort through my beloved mother-in-law Lola’s stuff in order get her house ready to sell. Lola died about six months ago, and so it was simply time to do this.

I didn’t go. I was really tired from the fundraiser and, besides, there really wasn’t much I could do. I would have no idea what to do with Lola’s unfinished quilts or her 10 years worth of old Look magazines.

So there I was. Charlie-less for two whole days.

My pre-Charlie years were my drinking years, and something about having him not around brought back the ghosts of how the inside of my head felt during those bad and desperate times. The chatter, the fear, the worry, the financial and emotional chaos–I could remember them all vividly. And I was so, so glad to be sober–so glad that the remembered, horribly reality of active addiction was no longer my reality. It was alarming to revisit my drinker’s head so vividly, but I think that visit just made me feel more grateful for sobriety.

The weekend was great. I gardened, wrote, washed sheets and hung them out on the line, worked out, read, had a lovely, restful, sober time.

The weekend made me grateful for Charlie as well. The ability and desire to enter into the give and take of a good and enjoyable partnership with him has been one of the great gifts of sobriety. And you know what? I even kind of missed the old guy’s hovering. At least a little bit