Kicking the Habit

By the time I was a score and four I was retired from overseas duty. Was husband to an American beauty. Had smoked at least ten years or more. I was hep...... Cool Hand Luke the fool. John Wayne, all my idols puffed weed. The movies, sports, all planted the seed. Be a cat, a lover, all the things so cool. Smoke, you fool, that’s the golden rule. Oh, I quit a thousand times. Not really. But it went from the sublime to silly. What I needed was a quitting tool. Nothing came out for years, but proof. If you smoked you would die early. It would put you in the grave girlie. They convinced me it was no spoof. Then about ‘80 came the gum to chew. Nicotine substitute with a doctor’s care. Even so, you had to first declare Ernest intention, a desire to be through. I bought mine in May of eighty four. Made up my mind I would like to quit. The first few days, I was a nervous twit. I thought “Lord help me, Please, no more” The secret for me, beyond the Nicorette, beyond God’s help, and the family grim. After thirty seconds the want was slim and I had gotten by with no cigarette. Enduring thirty seconds at each twinge, minute by minute, day by day until my body expunged, the habit was nil. There was no need to think of a binge. After a while there was no more want. Time passed, now nearly thirty years. My lungs are clean, eased are the fears wife and children had, their faith I flaunt. © Jul 14 2010 For Dane Ann’s “being trapped” contest