Today, we drove down to the airport. My mom flew in from the warm{er} south, to visit for the next week and a half. Her timing worked out to be perfect, and I'm welcoming her support and help with open arms.
As Fynn and I drove into the big city this morning, my mind was clear, my thoughts positive, I was able to stay in the moment with him. As conversation drifted from the big orange dinosaur on Route 1, to the big trucks that we passed, to airplanes in the sky, I smiled and giggled with my son. We were there, together in the car, excited for the same thing. Flurries and wind hit our faces as we left the car to venture into the airport, and we ran together, hand in hand, toward the warmth.
My mind is clear, but tired. Happy, but emotionally drained. Lifted by the comments and emails that followed Thursday's post, but still brought down a bit by the hugeness that is being a recovering alcoholic. I can't tell you how thankful, and completely humbled I am by all of your comments, prayers, and kindness. It's like jumping into a bed freshly made with warm flannel sheets. Comforting, a soft landing at the end of a hard day.
Thank you.