Today I spent the day in the hospital for my son Noah. I blink back years and remember the dog bite and twenty-five stitches on his face. I’m wondering if that was a sign from the Universe giving me a hint on the destiny of my son. Somehow, I missed the memo. At nineteen, he’s facing open heart surgery. As the mother of a drug addict I can honestly say that life is bittersweet. When i lived in the suburbs of Chicago, I’d harvest bittersweet in the woods near my house. Bittersweet grows on a vine, and it’s berries are gorgeous, turning bright red-orange when they burst from a clementine colored bud. Crawling up trees, it lives in the high branches, peering down to laugh at the earth below. Harvesting is not for the faint of heart. Armed with strong legs, gloves, and determination, I don’t remember ever coming home without blood.