At work — a gas station, a man came through. Tattoo'd, healthy looking, kind-minded eyes. With his head down he walked up to the counter and placed down two rich, dark choclates, and said only, and quietly to himself. "I'm having a craving."

Instinctively, the words that almost came out of my mouth were about the late night, and our usual feelings of pursuing something sweet, but before I could put thought to words, into speech — he said it was his 6th year clean. Sober. Living.

It was late on an innocuous evening, nothing seemed out of sorts in my world. Work was almost over, life has been going okay. But something about the next words from him being that, I was the only person today who congratulated him on his soberity, success — his living. Really shook me. It makes me think about the life I almost went down, what happens in your spirals, and how easy it is to just...give up.

But he didn't, for six years he fought to make something out of lost time from abuse. And for a lifetime more he'll fight to continue on.

But on a night of a craving, an impulse, a wrong mindset. We found each other, and I think about why he opened up, why his eyes met mine so kindly...all I can do is hope that the choclate helped. Maybe the words we exchanged did too.

And that may be all we can do sometimes...hope, wish, pray. For bit of a better day than the one previous — I'd say.