7,300

Twenty years ago this evening I took a cigarette out of the pack – a Marlboro in the red box – and tucked it behind my ear. Then I squeezed the half-empty pack and gave it a twist and dropped it into the trash. I emptied the ash tray into the trash bag. I picked up the trash bag and put it into a plastic bag, tied the plastic bag and hauled it down three flights of stairs and dropped it into the dumpster in the back of the building. I went back upstairs, washed my hands and did whatever I did that night, always feeling the cigarette behind my ear. A couple of hours passed and right around 10:00 – 10:30 pm I lit the cigarette. I enjoyed lighting the cigarette and I smoked it slow.  I held the smoke in as long as I could before exhaling, and when I exhaled I enjoyed watching the smoke drift slowly out of my nose and mouth. I enjoyed watching the ember flare bright red. I enjoyed tapping the ash off into the ashtray. I smoked that cigarette straight down to the filter before I stubbed it out in the ashtray. I stood up and emptied the ashtray into the toilet and flushed the butt and ashes down. I dropped the ashtray into a trash bag along with my Bic lighter. I took the bag, crumbled it up and went back down the three flights of stairs and dropped it into the dumpster in the back of the building. I went back upstairs, washed my hands and went to sleep. The next morning, May 25, 1997, I woke up a non-smoker. For whatever reason, that night was the charm and after I don’t know how many attempts I stayed a non-smoker.

It’s been 20 years since I’ve had a cigarette. Two decades. 7,300 days. That’s a long time.