In the contours of his man-face, I still see my own son. The jaw, the nose, the spacing of his eyes. But I know not to be fooled by the familiar façade: I already know there’s somebody else who’s living inside. I’ve been doing battle with this invisible stranger, trying to fight the beast that has wriggled itself underneath my son’s skin, but I am so very weary because it often feels like I’m battling against him. And sometimes when looking into the face of my child, I’m swayed into feeling like I’m on the wrong side.
I want my son to know whom I’m fighting for.
I want my son to know whom I’m fighting against.
And I want my son to know why.
Today’s thought from the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation is from the book:
by Sandra Swenson