August 25th will be my 26th re-birthday. I will have been sober 9,496 days on that date, each one one-day-at-a-time.

Every single one of these days is a miracle. I could be dead right now. Or living in a lower level of hell than I used to.

One of my brothers died from alcoholism. I held him as he drew his last breath at the youthful age of 45. I know where that path leads. It could have been me.

And it still could. Often I hear about famous (and not famous) people falling off the wagon after being clean for more than two decades. I respect the power the demon of addiction has.