Crystal Lies - Melody Carlson [123]
Time graciously passes, and its late August now, and my garden looks better than I ever imagined possible. Especially after getting a late start on planting, since the divorce settlement didn’t come until April, and I didn’t actually take possession until early May. By then I knew it was too late to grow anything from seed, and so I got some wonderful seedlings from the little nursery that’s only four blocks away But everything just took off. Even my neighbors are impressed with my green thumb, and I’ve been giving away tomatoes and cucumbers and zucchini by the wheelbarrow load.
Besides cleaning up the yard and putting in the garden, the first thing I did to my little house was to paint its exterior, transforming it from dirty-sock beige to buttery yellow. If I do say so myself, it was quite an improvement. But that was only the beginning. I’m pretty certain that my hands have gone over every square inch of my little house by now. Well, not the roof; I left that to the professionals. But I have refinished the hardwood floors, repainted the walls and cabinets, and even replaced some of the broken windowpanes. It’s amazing what they can teach you to do at Home Depot these days. I’ve also sewn curtains and decorated it in “shabby chic,” causing some of my friends and neighbors to think I should attempt to make a living doing this sort of thing. And I might just do that.
Having and fixing up my own little house has probably been the best form of therapy I’ve found so far. And it’s good to have Winnie and Rufus back too. Mrs. Fieldstone insisted on delivering them to me herself so she could have a tour of my new place.
“It’s perfectly lovely,” she told me, although it was still pretty torn up at the time. “I can imagine a divine garden party in this backyard.”
Jacob graduated again from Hope’s Wings in early April, and he has been surprisingly helpful in restoring my house. I let him do as he liked with the guesthouse, his quarters for the time being and for as long as he remains clean and sober. I was somewhat surprised when he painted the interior walls an odd shade of aqua blue, but it looked quite nice once his things were in place. So far, Jacob has worked his recovery program and stayed clean. He’s even held the same job since May. He’s also enrolled for classes at the local college, and I am feeling hopeful.
Do I think we’re out of the woods yet? Not at all. I didn’t get this far in the recovery process for nothing. I know as well as anyone that it’s still a day-by-day thing, and I suppose I won’t rest completely easy until Jacob has been clean for a couple of years or more. Just the same, I sleep much better at nights when I remind myself to put my son back into God’s hands. I’ve come to accept that only God’s hands are big enough to hold something as overwhelming and daunting as a loved one who’s an addict.
But today is a happy day, because I am finally having that garden party that Mrs. Fieldstone recommended. And besides her, I am inviting Jack and my other friends from the apartments as well as Sherry and some of my new church friends and even Sylvia from the grocery outlet store. And, of course, Marcus will be here too. I’m not sure whether Jacob will make it home on time or not, but I did tell him that even though it’s mostly older people, he’s more than welcome to join us. Even so, I won’t be worried or fretful if he doesn’t show up. I know he’s got friends and things to do too.
My life’s certainly not perfect by any means. I still have my ups and downs and doubts that come knocking in the middle of the night. In some ways I’m as much in the recovery process as my son—it’s definitely a daily thing for me, too. But I have come to accept something. Or almost. I guess I’d better be careful lest I fall flat on my face tomorrow. But I have decided that God never meant for life to be perfect or easy or even what we might consider normal. I mean, just look around this crazy old world at all the