Dear Neighbors

Dear Neighbors

It was impossible to ignore him stumbling down street, leaning awkwardly, fighting gravity like a child learning to ride a bike. His incoherent rambling dampened the sunshine and cut through the mystique of our hummingbird-filled community. I closed the shades and locked the doors just like you.

Fugitive Felon

Fugitive Felon

“The energy in the courtroom was kinetic. A pass-through door that divided the space swung constantly, allowing attorneys and translators to access clients and their family members. Amid a dozen hushed conversations, I practiced boxed breathing, inhaling and exhaling to an even count.

Rehab Treadmill

Rehab Treadmill

If you saw my son in Prescott, Arizona– or Orange County, California, or somewhere in south Florida– he looked like an ordinary twenty-something riding in a nondescript, however telltale, white cargo van. His mainstream appearance must have provoked speculation about the path that led another addict to take up temporary residence in the community.

Harm Less Addiction

Harm Less Addiction

In the final seconds of our video visitation my son commented, “Thank you for talking to me, Mom. So many parents cut their kids off. They think addiction is a moral issue.” I glanced at the countdown clock in the corner of the screen and quickly called out, “I LOVE you!” As I stared at his face frozen on the screen, I reflected on the journey that had brought us here.

I am an Addict's Mom

I am an Addict's Mom

While I was waiting for the elevator, I read a five-word text that tore apart my heart and left my stomach in knots. The elevator ride provided under a minute of privacy to process my 20 year old son’s message. As I re-embraced the professional environment, the words, “I will be dead soon” reverberated. My usual mantra, “Please keep him safe” was futile.