As we were.
My kids are in school all day now so I've had time to relax a bit, reflect, organize. Pictures, school work, scrapbooks, old music. The Lion and the Cobra. I do know Mandinka. That song, that song I remember. Before everything else. Before sobriety, before adulthood, before marriage and motherhood. Before Dermot. I was sixteen, really drunk and dancing by myself, by choice at First Avenue. I was the shit. Wearing the borrowed white jeans that had made the circuit with the trendy girls in my click. Pinned at the ankle, cinched at the waist. Mandinka blasting in the enormous speakers. Nothing could touch me, nothing could hurt me. I was in the zone. Thirty minutes earlier I had thrown up most of the vodka I had slammed in the parking lot and decided I needed more from my boyfriend's stash because I wasn't drunk anymore. He agreed and I downed a bit more before entering the legendary club. Sunday's were sixteen and up and we were there every Sunday. Most nights like th...