And through no effort on my part, a memory comes up for me and I remember the time that my mom and grandma visited me while I was in treatment in Wimberly, TX, just outside Austin. I am not sure which iteration of my visit it was–the 90 day trip, the 60 day trip, or the 30 day trip. Half a year, and still not the last time I went to treatment. And I think of all the tears that they’ve shed, and all the prayers they must have protested, and all the pain that they must have endured. And here we are at my kitchen table, talking about sobriety and spirituality and grad school.