My love affair with smoking began 23 years ago. I was in high school. My sister and I would use the money my mom gave us for lunch to buy cigarettes, and we’d still have enough left to get an order of nachos at lunch. We used to smoke in the bathroom at school. We used to smoke upstairs in our bedrooms. I don’t know how my mom didn’t smell it.
I smoked all through college, too. I’d sit and look out the window of my dorm room waiting for the white truck to pull up downstairs. He’d come every night around 7:00. He sold snacks and pop to all starving college kids. And cigarettes. I loved it when that white truck pulled up.
I kept on smoking. On my wedding day, I stood in the parking lot of the church – a newly married bride in a beautiful white gown and veil – and smoked. I was smoking when my sisters told me my beloved Aunt Carole suddenly died. I was holding a cigarette. I don’t know why I remember that, but I do.
Dunkin’ Donuts coffee and a cigarette. Sitting on the front porch reading a book and smoking. Driving in the car, arm hanging out the window, holding a smoke. First cigarette of the day. Smoke break at lunchtime…. you get the point….
I was reading my 3-year old daughter the book Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site. She pointed to the picture of the truck. “What’s that, Mommy?” she asked. “It’s smoke,” I told her.
“Smoke,” she repeated. “Like you, Mommy.”
Someday I’ll tell Maddie how she (and Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site) saved my life. I’ve been smoke-free for 2 months and 19 days.