The Crowned Royal
By: Tami Harper Winn
Once upon a time there was woman who sat at a bar, clothes half falling off, mascara smudged beneath her eyes as she slurred to a tattooed well-built young bartender about how one day she was going to be a writer. Now imagine this, the look that was on his face as he could really care less about this barfly’s drunken dreams. He’d heard them all before. In fact, the only thing she was good at writing that he could see was her phone number on bar napkins for random strangers that she met nightly.
You see, somewhere between the third shot of whiskey, the pitcher of cheap beer and the loss of everything that ever mattered in her life, she set her pen down and forgot where she put it. That sexy little Mont Blanc pen that courted every page she ever wrote had ran away taking all her long lost dreams of writing the words she shared only between him and the blank page. She had reduced herself to Bic ballpoint pens now, if she was lucky, and whatever she could write on. No medium was ever considered taboo. Her vocabulary had reduced to a few meager utterances: “Bartender, I’ll have another” and “Hey hottie, how you doin?” No longer did epic words fill the space around her when she spoke, long gone were those days. Long gone were those dreams.
Fast forward 5 years later…no Prince Charming on some dumb ole white horse ever stole that bad ass princess off that bar stool to save her from her own worst judgement. Instead, a “friend” accompanied by an entourage of “other friends” 12th Stepped her off that bar stool and whisked her away to another smoke filled room full of sober drunks and sat her down with a cup of muddy coffee in the hallowed halls of Alcoholics Anonymous. This certainly was not the idea she envisioned of her royal palace. With one try she was able to get the glass slipper called sobriety to fit and ever since she has been in the company of royalty living a life far beyond what her silly little dreams could’ve imagined.
It was there that she learned how to pick up the pen, shaking from withdrawals and fear, and began to write again. She started by writing what others in AA like to call “inventory” (a quintessential element in a 12 Step recovery approach) and gratitude lists. Once all the wreckage from her past had been removed, her canvas to paint the words of her life was finally clear. She was free to look the world in the eye and speak her truth.
There is no Mr. Prince Charming (although for a moment she thought there was) that is responsible for the grand life she lives. She is blessed to have a very big Higher Power and she is only responsible for romancing this page in this moment and spitting game to her readers now. Long gone are the bar napkins, replaced by Word documents and key strokes. She rubs her fingers across the keyboard, ponders the words before her and presses “send.” The End…for now.
Tami Harper Winn