Taking It to the Filter

By L.E. Hastings

This is a collection of short stories based on recovery and beyond. There are stories of strength, hope, compassion, and fear of living a life with and without addiction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984509093

L.E. Hastings

A New England native, L.E. Hastings continues projects with his writing and working with a wide range of individuals with disabilities and in treatment with addiction behaviors along with volunteering. His spare time he enjoys his family and friends that has kept growing as the days turn into weeks and years.

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Copyright © 2018 by L.E. Hastings.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2018901926

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-9845-0907-9

                Softcover         978-1-9845-0908-6

                eBook              978-1-9845-0909-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 06/05/2019

Xlibris

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A collection of short stories

It Happened Before

Pie

I’ve Forget

Bumble Bee

The Way It Was Supposed to Be

But for the Grace of Something

Free Ticket to Trash Talk

My Sign

The Pill

Moments

When You’re Done, You’re Done

Near and Far

By the Light

The Rest Will Come

Lemons

Decidedly Unfriendly

Come to Think of It—No

The First Few Flakes

So Far So Good

The Filter

This book is dedicate

d to

"All those that have found the shores of hope

and to all those that are still in their cups

and those that paid the ultimate price

on taking it to the end

of their filter."

PREFACE

W HEN I STARTED writing years ago, it was just a large part of putting my thoughts down on paper. Later it turned into something more, something that I’m forever grateful for and something that I could never have done had I not gotten sober and stayed that way. Good or bad, life goes on.

As with anything, my writing started to change, and the topics of my writing began to broaden from recovery to just plain life. Soon, my stories and essays began to focus not just on my life but on the lives of those who are around me—around us—every single day.

Most times when I’m putting short stories together, I notice small connections between them. In most cases, I even know who the book is going to be dedicated to well before it is even done and sent to the press. Not this time. But in a moment, I’ll tell you how I eventually came to that decision.

With the grace of God, Taking It to the Filter is my fifth book to be published. The title came from someone I knew who explained that phrase as follows: Once you made a decision you see it to the end—taking it all the way, finishing what you’ve started.

This applies to most things in life, be it a book, a class, an argument, even a cigarette or going to the gym. If we’re changing something about ourselves for the better, then it’s best to follow through. The challenge is to figure out what to follow through; otherwise we may follow the wrong path right off a cliff.

Now, with the loss of yet another friend passing, I’ve found myself sitting down and doing what helps me deal with a feeling: I write. I write to explore the feeling and to ask myself if there was something, anything, that I could have been done differently to help my friend. The answer that keeps coming back is no. So partly I am writing because I’m so damn mad. I feel so, so very numb and so powerless over the situation. While I’ve been staying sober, people whom I’ve gotten close to have paid the ultimate price for their insobriety.

I can’t do much from where I sit. I’ve given my thoughts, my prayers, my condolences, and now there is one other thing. I’ve dedicated the book to

All those that have found the shores of sobriety and to all those that have paid the ultimate price of being in their cups ’til the end.

The end of Taking It to the Filter …

Endicott

IT HAPPENED BEFORE

S O, IT’S NOT any surprise that I ended up back here, the young man told me as he walked to the back of the meeting room, found a chair, and sat down.

The look upon my face must have conveyed either shock or confusion.

That or he just didn’t care.

As I started to walk toward the back of the room myself—having said many times Hello, How are you? What’s new? and shaking lots of hands—I found myself standing near the young man in the back.

So, I had to ask him. You told me that it was no surprise that you’re back here. I’ve been around awhile and would like to know: do you want to be back here?

Yes and no, he replied with some hesitation. He added, I mean, that’s what happens to us, right?

I said, I guess.

You just told me that you’ve been around awhile, so isn’t that what happens when we decide to go back to the way we were living? We end up back here.

Sometimes, I replied.

What do you mean, sometimes? Isn’t that what happening? We end up back here! he insisted.

Well—yes and no. I looked at him and took a sip of my coffee. I had asked you: do you want to be back here?

Yeah—and I told you, I don’t know.

Why, yes you did, I said. I pulled the chair next to him away from the table. Then, taking another sip from my coffee, I sat down.

You don’t mind if I sit, here do you? I asked.

Suit yourself, he said, looking at me with a confused expression.

Are you sure you’re going to hear from way back here? I asked. Then I added, I don’t think I’m going to hear too well from sitting way back here. Do you?

Don’t know. This is where I’ve always sat when I come here. He started to look at a small book that was in his hands.

What’s that? I asked.

A meeting list of all these types of groups. I can hardly figure it out. It looks like it’s written in some other language to me. But I know I’ve been here before, so that’s how I know where to go when I come back.

Well, that’s good news. Being lost is no fun. I’m glad you knew where to go, I said.

After flipping through his book, he stopped and asked me if I’d been coming here for a while.

"You do