Empty Seats In A.A. Meets

On Sunday morning, at 10 am, I drove myself to an A.A. meeting. A thing I have not done in about 2 years: but I felt like it would be a good opportunity to meet some sober people my age. Since moving to Kansas City, I know plenty of people that don’t drink. But have yet to come across any who used to drink like me. And sometimes, you just need the comfort of unspoken familiarity. 

I walked in late with my olive green tin mug of coffee. I’m a princess with my coffee, although I do appreciate that there’s always a caramel-colored drip running through grounds, a soundtrack to the stories shared around these tables. It’s something you can count on. And there’s something to be said for that. 

I knew there wouldn’t be many people because of the empty spaces in the parking lot. I almost didn’t go in. I always have this moment of almost not going in. But once I clocked the coffee decal on the secret door to the basement, I figured I might as well. 

There were four of us. Five, including me. Three 65+ white guys and one older woman heading it up. And lots of empty seats.