A lot has happened.

Noah is at another rehab. He’s been there five days.

Short of a week after Noah’s second surgery, my mother went into the ER, getting a double bypass three days later. Same hospital. Same surgeon. Same floor. Room to room I went, an imaginary rut formed down the hall.

Everyday at the hospital since January 19th, they’ve each been discharged twice and Mother leaves today.

Waiting on the edge of my chair, Noah’s life teetering on existence, I’m writing my story, the mother of a drug addict.

A memoir.

Thank you for being here. For listening and waiting and loving. I appreciate you.

xoxo