I was sitting in the food court at Boston Logan Airport on Sunday eating a sandwich and feeling fine. I looked up and spotted the bar I used to drink at whenever I had some time to kill before boarding a flight home to Chicago. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, I felt an urge to drink a glass of Chardonnay. And at that moment, and for minutes after, I knew I was going to drink. But sober me decided to battle alcoholic me. Sober me said “You only have time for one drink before you have to board and what’s the point of having just one?”  Alcoholic me countered with: “Well, I can have two more drinks on the plane.”  Sober me then said: “But by the time you land you will feel tired, the buzz will have worn off and you will feel awful.” Alcoholic me retorted: “Once I land, I could go straight to a bar at O’Hare and have another to keep the buzz going, and then I could drive straight to the grocery store to buy a bottle of Chardonnay and drink it when I got home.”  Sober me, fighting for my sobriety, said: “But you will be drunk by the time you get home, and the kids will know and then the next morning you will wake up with remorse, shame, and guilt, not to mention a hangover, and you will have to begin fighting for sobriety all over again.” And as swiftly as the desire to drink invaded my mind, it left.  This internal struggle had lasted no more than five minutes. At the beginning of that five minutes I knew I was going to drink. By the end of the five minutes I knew with 100% certainty I was not going to drink. That was the first time I had successfully fought off such a drinking urge. I felt like I had climbed a mountain and was standing at the top looking out over a beautiful horizon, feeling triumphant and at peace. Nothing mattered at that moment except that I had not taken that first drink and that I was still sober. I was, and still am, filled with gratitude – filled with grace. There is no better feeling.