Today Noah goes back to rehab.

Everyone always tells me,” Well at least you can sleep better now because you know where he is.”

It’s not like that.

I always wonder when I’ll ever, if ever, stop wondering. If he’s sober a year, or six years, can I breathe then?

I don’t know.

The last time he left rehab, he left with Matt, a kid who who was 26, sober for six years, owned a house, a new truck and was engaged to be married. He lost everything.

I’m an optimist not a pessimist, so why do I think like this? I need to believe, hope, trust, say my prayers and cling to what the Universe has already shown me, that Noah has a destiny, his life saved from the pit.

“It’ll be okay.” I tell myself. My mother’s words when I was a child, passed down to my children.

I stand in the gap of the unknown. To wait. To trust. To hope.  It’s a mother’s job to be present, regardless of the outcome. To be strong and courageous, trust in the Almighty, dig deep and celebrate today.