I remember my last drink clearly.
It was New Year’s Eve, just over two and a half years ago. My family was on vacation in San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua, and we were on the beach in the middle of the afternoon. My daughter was 9, my son was 7, and they were playing a game in the sand with my wife. I had a piña colada in my hand that had cost me $10 USD, which felt absurd for a Canadian, and it was my second or third of the day, on top of a few beers.
I looked at my kids and had a thought I couldn’t shake...
Read the full article here
