seeing blue

Miles had a paintbrush but no paint, and he painted anyway. He moved that little hand back and forth and back and forth, imagining blue for his playhouse. He was the only one that knew exactly how it was turning out. He had the whole big picture up in his adorable noggin. He always does. He sees it all, that boy of mine.

He was working very hard.

I watched him while his brother watched him and it was such a perfect fall day and I can't believe they're mine.

There are things a mom just can't describe. These feelings we have for them, they are just too personally rich, too much at the center of us to be pulled out. Maybe that's good. We honor the intimacy of family that way, even while we touch on universal truths and nod our heads in recognition.

I hope one day my boys read my words and know me more. More of the things that I thought of them and was too busy to say. Or maybe the things a person just doesn't know how to say without the written word. I hope to get better and better at loving them with my life too, of course. I guess I'm just glad I have this space to elaborate on who my boys are, and on who I am, to reiterate to them that they will always belong. Always.

Right now, exactly today, I sit here holding eight months of sobriety in my heart alongside those indescribable feelings I have for my family. I can't describe this not drinking thing very well either, and I don't know that my two sons will ever understand what I mean when I say I promise you every night.

Maybe one day they will understand. Maybe they won't...

But even if they never fully know what this has been like, all this hard work, I will still hold sobriety as my own and so it will be ours.

I can see it like he sees blue.

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