A Smoking New York City

It felt like time had played a cruel trick on me, distorting reality within the span of mere seconds. The morning had been peculiar, with a glaring discrepancy between the weather reports and the scene before my eyes. As the clock struck 8:45 am, rain cascaded from the heavens, defying the forecasted “light showers at 2 PM.” Confusion filled my mind, for the downpour persisted while the online weather updates denied its existence. Light-heartedly, I shared this anomaly with my wife, jesting that we might have stumbled upon a glitch in the Matrix. However, my whimsical supposition crumbled as the truth unraveled before us. The rain was not a mere glitch but a sinister omen, a consequence of a devastating forest fire engulfing vast expanses of Canada. Oblivious to the looming catastrophe, I carried on with the responsibilities of the day. Client projects demanded attention, the virtual reality experiences on Voxels required monitoring, and my duty to Dominate The Globe implored me to put pen to paper. But as the sun waned, an eerie yellow fog blanketed the magnificent skyline of New York City. Warnings cascaded onto my phone, alarming me of the perilous condition of the air we breathed. Peering out my window, I witnessed a sight that once held familiarity—a flurry of people scurrying towards their sanctuaries, laden with cases of beer and White Claw. Memories of my former self resurfaced, the days when I too would stockpile alcohol in anticipation of any approaching storm or disaster. Yet, something had changed within me. The smoke that managed to infiltrate my lungs from the distant fire quickly turned my stomach, provoking a pounding headache and a scratchy throat. The severity of the situation became evident, and I resolved not to venture outside for the remainder of the night. In that moment, I contemplated the stark disparity in perception between my past self, engulfed in the allure of intoxication, and the person I had become. Once, I would have filled the refrigerator with alcohol, transforming our abode into a fortress, a haven from the chaos. Now, my utmost concern was the safety and well-being of my family. My gaze swept across the room, cataloging the essential items we lacked, yet the importance of these material possessions paled in comparison to the safety and tranquility that enveloped my loved ones. The day, wrapped in a cloak of smoky obscurity, whispered a reminder—an echo of life’s profound interconnectedness. In the dwindling hours of the night, as I lay beside my wife, cradling my slumbering daughter with a tender gaze, I grasped my phone and opened the Quit Drinking app. Here, I sought solace in the presence of kindred spirits, those who understood the intricacies of my journey. While social media teemed with revelry and ceaseless excitement, I found myself navigating a divergent path. The pursuit of success, the allure of the limelight, and the clamor of my career—all these ambitions took a backseat to the resplendent love and security within my family. Paradoxically, that smoky night in New York City became a catalyst for profound serenity and a reminder of what mattered.