“im
in a spot, I've been living in a tent in the woods for a week but
it's flooded in. Is there any way I could crash with you for the
night?”
It
was the morning after and reading the message made my heart stutter.
Guilt that I hadn't seen it sooner collided with relief that I hadn't
seen it sooner and left me very nearly tied up in knots. I replied
carefully, reminding him again where the shelters were and
encouraging him to get help and stay on his meds but having been to
this rodeo several times, I wasn't optimistic I didn't expect and
didn't get an answer.
“God
watches over fools and drunks,” my grandmother used to say. Maybe
so, but He rarely interferes and the least I can do is follow His
example. I have lived with the effects of addiction all my life and
it took years to understand the perils of enabling. My heart hurts
for this boy, but my mind knows that a couch at my house, even if I
had one to offer, is not the solution. I can't afford the inevitable
damage he would cause. And I will not be the one who gets between
him and his reaching the bottom. Bottom is his only hope.
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