I felt I was barely more than nothing; barely more than a clean shirt and a pair of pants but her eyes said something else and I felt some old use to be something move in me.

I’d been scraped off the bottom by those who live to do such things, to see if I was ready yet. I didn’t think she knew, I thought she would be innocent of me; or could she see through a clean shirt?………. I was guilty of taking my fear, guilt, and shame to the wall to see if I would live or die; what greater shame is there than that?

Weeks turned to months; she was patient. I was under reconstruction but wise enough to just hold the door open for her ‘till she was ready; we both prayed for wisdom remembering those long frightening trips into insanity.

Finding our way home was the order of every day; flirtations were poison, maybe deadly but the mind knows the dreams of the heart and will risk all for love, even in substance abuse treatment and daily AA meetings.

All I had was a lot of baggage and fearful secrets; she had eight years in recovery, hope, and a house; and she made room for me.