The thing about recovery (ongoing) from addiction is that I live three lives. Before screwing my life up, during the downward spiral, and now, when my life looks so together (and truly is happy and beautiful beyond measure), only my laughter and tears in the retelling convince any new friend I have indeed stumbled blindly through the darkness.
Hugging my son and the feeling of his small hand on my shoulder remind me of the years I believed he (or any other kind future) would never be real – those hours of nearly fatal folly – and in that moment, he is almost a mirage, until I close my eyes, plunge again through the darkness and reach the little girl me who hoped easily. When she feels his soft touch, I am carried to where I would like to always be, right here and now, living only the one life.
I wouldn’t trade places with anyone.