Thursday, March 1, 2018


Monday, March 16th, 2020

The Letter
“I almost forgot,” Jill said, handing me an envelope with my name on it. “I found this in his desk. It was sealed.  Do me a favor. Don’t tell me what it says.  I couldn’t stand being angrier with him than I already am.”

I opened it when I got home. ‘If you’re reading this, I probably OD’d. Truth is I knew this was how it would end. I ran into my old dealer. He’d relapsed after ten years clean when his wife died. We cried together and shooting up with him seemed like the most natural thing ever.

‘Before you judge me, put yourself in my shoes. What was I supposed to do when I knew I was hooked again? Go through detox? Get my 24 hour coin after all those years clean? Tell my wife and kid that just as my career was taking off I’d pissed it all away? I was hurting and humiliated. I couldn’t stand feeling that way again after so many years.

‘Irony of ironies, my dealer OD’d, now I’m scrounging for whatever I can get until I find a new supply. I will, and it will kill me.  I bought some life insurance so my family will be taken care of. I won’t have to feel this way. Everyone wins.’

I tore up the letter. I thought of all the people who go through chemo, knowing they’re going to feel terrible now, but better later.  I thought of Phil, facing yet another painful operation and rehab, hoping it would ease some his pain down the road.

Staring at the shredded paper, I said, “You can’t make decisions about your future based just on how you feel now.”

Today I won’t make decisions about what I’ll do in the future based on how I feel now.

2020 Vision ©2017 & 2018 by Ken Montrose

2020 Vision is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: www.greenbriartraining.com https://www.pinterest.com/kenmontrose/mt-rose/

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