Tabac

Every year on this day I take in a deep breath, fill my lungs to capacity, and offer myself a hearty congratulations. On October 21, 2001, I quit smoking, making today the completion of my eighth cigarette-free year.

Today, I cannot imagine lighting up, but in a former life I was hooked, line and sinker. It started the day my parents moved me into my college dormitory room. My roommate hadn't arrived yet and, feeling both shy and bold, I scurried past the sprinkling of students in the common area to set out alone across campus. In the cool September dusk I walked to the Gyro-cery, a Lebanese mini mart, and bought a pack of Camel Lights, choosing these over Marlboros as I wasn't entirely sure how to pronounce this Philip Morris offering. This nod to the freedoms of adulthood progressed over the following seven years, culminating in an expensive and reckless pack-a-day habit.

Quitting "cold turkey" has been one of my best choices and greatest accomplishments. The decision to stop this self-destructive behavior significantly changed the tenor of my life, and, although I didn't know it at the time, was the first step toward putting myself first on my priority list. This experience increased my awareness of self-preservation - learning to say no, staying true to my ideals and giving my health the attention it deserves.

I'm not going to lie -- there are moments, on cool, clear nights or summer at dusk that a long, languid drag sounds heavenly. Occasionally I catch a sweet waft of smoke that tickles my nose and I breathe it in and arch an eyebrow in interest. But, those days are long gone, just hazy memories of a truly bygone era.

When at first I learned to speak/

I used all my words to fight/

With him and her and you and me/

Ah, but it's just a waste of time/

Yeah, it’s such a waste of time/

...

What you were then I am today/

Look at the things I do/

...

Three words that became hard to say/

I and Love and You.

                                  --The Avvett Brothers, "I and Love and You"