Twenty One

How do I explain why I won't be drinking on my 21st birthday?

It's not that I morally object to alcohol.

I'm not opposed to the consumption of the brain-altering barbiturate, in moderate doses.

I probably won't spend my whole life, or even my 21st year, abstaining from this substance.

But today, the day on which I have been offered free booze from basic strangers, I will not be drinking.

Call it a "sit-out," a sort of protest in objection to the way society pushes alcohol. It's a cure-all and an instant entertainer. It's a magical elixer that erases stress and manufactures happiness. It's a requirement for social interaction.

If I had to choose one person with whom to drink a birthday toast, I think it would be my friend Holly. She knows me well enough to grasp, intuitively, that getting trashed would not be exciting or enjoyable, and would not question or attempt to change my point of view. Instead, she would understand the significance of the drink--a symbol of the passage from one stage into another, the celebration of this continued journey to maturity.

But today, I will drink life as a toast. I will perceive with utmost alertness the surprise of streamers fluttering in my doorway, a rose floating on my windowsill, a room with filled with the glow of candles and celebration prayers.

Relaxed, happy, silly in my own skin. Sober.