> My mother and brother had already escaped to the quiet north. We would meet them there. It was so early that Amy and I wore our pajamas, so early that my dad

> My mother and brother had already escaped to the quiet north. We would meet them there. It was so early that Amy and I wore our pajamas, so early that my dad hadn’t yet had a drink. At the end of our driveway, he said, “Oops. I forgot something.” Then a horrible wait in the car for his return and our assessment of him. The children of alcoholics are detectives, alert to the slightest changes in scent, demeanor, and language. What our dad had forgotten that morning was to chug half a handle of gin. Gosh, I've never experienced anything like this, and enjoy a drink now and then, but if I'd experienced anything like this, I'd understand why you'd want to never be near the stuff again.