As late summer sun slanted through the many windows of Barbara’s elegant seaside condo, Richard cued up another Shubert CD. The afternoon stretched ahead. We were content. “This is what I sobered up for,” he said. A decade later, Richard still plays honky-tonk piano and Barbara’s mezzo voice is yet coaxing our tears in lieder and show tunes. And I, on days both good and bad, enjoy what Phil Valentine calls fulfillment in recovery. “I’m living my right life,” I recently told a friend. Turns out there’s life after addiction. A life for me. My life. Who knew?