On her way back to treatment, fourth time since I have known her. “You only want to do this once,” I tell her. She’s not connected now, but, luckily, not broken. She winces in the cold. Nothing we can do for her. Conditions of release prevent her from drinking. “I don’t want to spend Christmas in jail. Can’t drink because they can breathalyze me for no reason.” If only sobriety were so easy! She does fine in treatment; doesn’t do well when she returns to the hood. Same place. Same people.
