From Life Support to Gritty Hope
Ok.
I really had to think about writing this post.
I had to think about thinking about writing this post.
In the end – here I am, writing this post.
I don’t like to think too much about hope. Not here.
I can hope for nice weather for my vacation, hope the traffic cooperates with my travels, hope that the price of diesel is on the downswing next time I need to fuel my van.
I don’t think I’ve been using the word properly.
Because that ‘hope’, the wistful, starry eyed hope of perfect days for your holiday, is not the same as ‘I’ve stepped out of the fire, I hope the pain stops soon’.
That’s some gritty fucking hope there. That’s road rash hope.
You want to have an idea of what you’re doing before you dive into road rash hope. So you might think about it twice.
It’s been 9 Days since My Guy – my son, left the ICU and went home.
It’s been 8 days since he called me – we talked for almost an hour.
It’s been 6 Days since I got the first message from him – and I was glad he didn’t hate me again yet… but also that he had reached out to some people that surprised me.
This trend continued – and the remarkable thing about it is that it’s remarkable.
It’s not the same ol’ same ol’ script that I’ve become so accustomed to…. The one where he says I’m done with drinking, never going to drink again, …. And I say ‘that would be good’… all the wistfulness having been sucked out of the hope.
This is not that.
Something is different. I’m not the only one that has noticed.
But I know that doesn’t mean that this is ‘the one’. It just means something is different this time…
For now I’m going to go and put some ointment on my road rash
and wait.