Here I am, in a 1969 yearbook photo, on the far left, with a cigarette in my hand. That’s the only photo I could find of me in the act of smoking.
I began to smoke when I went to college, and smoked from age 18 to age 29, when I joined the convent.
I had my last cigarette on the doorstep of the convent.
Was it hard to quit? I tried to quit six months before going, but it was a stressful time and I went back to smoking, and so finally quit on that doorstep.
It wasn’t hard to quit because I was so excited about my new life, and I was living with eleven non-smokers.
Still, when I helped with the grocery shopping and saw my brand for sale at the cash register, I felt a pang of yearning.
But that was 37 years ago, and I haven’t missed it for quite a while.
<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/happy-endings/”>Happy Endings</a>
