Three good reasons came to mind. Liv, Brett and Skeeter, her beautiful children, three amazing gifts from God that had already suffered from their parents' host of bad choices.

Never again would she compromise their happiness.

Crossing the grocery-store parking lot, she inhaled a breath of brisk, clean, North Country spring air, gave herself a quick kick in the behind and brought to mind all she should be grateful for. Her kids. Her faith. Her home.

Her sobriety.

She fingered the bronze one-year chip she kept tucked in a pants pocket, a valid reminder of three hundred and sixty-five days of good choices, of strengthening values, each day chasing the pervasive shadows of drunkenness further into oblivion.

Stronger now, she refused to be fooled. Once sober, she'd studied her problem and couldn't excuse her share of the blame. It would be easy to slough things off on circumstance and depression, justify that first drink. Then the next and the next and so on.

But Rita recognized her primary responsibility in the whole mess. Sure, her life had tanked emotionally, morally and financially with her late husband's crimes and suicide, but she'd had other choices.

She'd made the wrong ones then. She'd make the right ones now.

Despite the soap opera prevailing in her current job, her kids came first. Their strength. Their faith. Their well-being. No more messing them up.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.

Wonderful words, sweet and succinct. Perfect for an alcoholic's soul.

And