Tuesday, October 27, 2015

88. Can’t Win ‘em All
“How’s Amanda these days?” I asked the kids.  Neither of them knew Amanda’s mother Tara was in treatment. The whole family was struggling.  Tara, was working hard to stay clean and sober.  Amanda’s father had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimers.  Amanda was trying to become a better person, changing the character traits that had earned her the nickname ‘Demanda.’ 
“People are starting to cut her some slack,” Brat Boy said.  “She’s like another person, someone you might actually like.”
“She still hasn’t won some people over,” Blondie said.  “Some she’s never going to win over. Idiots.”
I thought of people who, almost three decades into my sobriety, still wondered why I couldn’t have a beer or two, were insulted I wouldn’t drink with them, or insisted I must be getting chemically altered some other way.  I hadn’t won them over, and lost no sleep over it.
“Tell her you can’t win ‘em all, and you can’t win ‘em all over,” I said. “No sense in worrying about ‘em.”

Today I will remember, you can’t win ‘em all over, so I won’t even try.
Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

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