I’m writing a memoir. It’s called Hold On For Your Life.  Too long since I’ve blogged,  I’m setting a goal to blog once a week to catch you up on life, love and Noah.

I just got back from Costa Rica, a 70.3, half-ironman. It was amazing, mostly, because the people were gracious, their land, beautiful.

I was at the airport, coming home, when I found out.

A text from Beth, Noah’s step-mom, “Can you call Randy when you land?”

Knowing before I got it, I still had to know.

“What happened? Is Noah okay? Please tell me. I have to know.” I responded.

Noah had been at Pillar Rehab* since April 24th. Clean almost 60 days, he relapsed.

Admitted to the ER three times within 24 hours, my son is a fighter.

“He wants to be sober desperately,” said Bill*, his case worker. “I see his pain. I feel for him. His beast, a burden.”

Arriving home, dog glued to my hip, breakfast with Autumn, the house in need of a maid last month, I remain, dusty.

And Noah?

Transferred back to residential treatment from structured sober living, lives.

*Names changed for privacy