Farewell to a Frenemy

It’s been one day, eight hours, and eleven minutes since I quit smoking. I’ve been telling myself I’m going to quit ever since I started again. It was hard to make the decision because, I’ll be honest, I love smoking. Ask any smoker and they’ll tell you the same.

I have so many good memories with my cigarettes. I remember in high school every morning two of my girlfriends and I would drive to the woods after PE and smoke cloves. I remember sitting on the back patio of my best friend’s house, smoking Camel Lights and playing drinking games until the wee hours of the morning. My brother and I bonded over hand rolled cigarettes. A cold morning and a cup of coffee just doesn’t seem the same without my little nicotine fix. And now, after all these years, cigarettes and I are breaking up.

I have to be honest, they weren’t all good times. A hangover is intensified when a night of drinking is mixed with chain smoking. And the truth about coffee and cigarettes? It’s a bit like drinking a gallon of prune juice. These are the things I’m not going to miss. These plus the smell, the lingering taste, the general grossness of it all. There’s a reason why I used to refer to myself as a ‘dirty smoker’.

I don’t think I’ll ever get over cigarettes. We’ve had a rocky romance with lots of ups and downs but I know that, unfortunately, I will always have fond memories. It’s like that ex boyfriend we’ve all had – so bad for you yet you keep coming back for more. Not this time though. This time it’s over for good.

The Moral of the Story: Today I love letting go

Baseball Fields and Summer Nights

Have you ever had a friend that slipped into your life so easy it felt like you’ve known them for years? It doesn’t happen often, but when it does you know it’s special.

I met him at a friend’s barbeque this summer. We spoke a little that night, not much, but later that week I found myself hanging out with him again. He was only here for a month or so, but we made so many memories together. We had a routine. A baseball field at night and a pack of Camel Lights. We would lay in the field and talk. We talked about everything and anything. I told him things I’ve only told my best friend. It sounds romantic, I know, but the amazing thing was we didn’t have to worry about attraction. It was intimate, yes, but only in a friendship way. Looking at the stars, opening up to each other, laughing at the craziness of life. The little time he was here felt like a lifetime.

I’ll never forget our Fever Pitch summer.

The Moral of the story: Today I love Baseball Fields and Summer Nights