Sometimes the ups are only a reminder of how low the downs have been. On a morning like this past Saturday, when I get a visit from The Oldest and he's charming, smiling, and connecting with others in the room, the new normal becomes less tolerable for days after.
The Oldest showed up on time and sober. He helped cook (have I mentioned he's an amazingly talented cook?). As he always does when he's in that mood, he made me laugh and put me at ease. Once the other guests had arrived, the conversation was stilted and awkward. The Oldest helped to smooth that out. Then he cleared the table & asked what else he could help with before he left. He was the ideal guest. The ideal son.
I hate that I can't just be grateful for that morning. That on Sunday when he blew me off again it was like the morning before had never happened. That I allow myself, in those beautiful moments, to think that everything is okay and there's no need to worry.
Maybe some day that will be true. I cling to that maybe.