“On purpose, Mom,” he tells me. “I’m bulking up. This will all be muscle. You’ll see.”
I don’t doubt him. Already his biceps bulge like barbells. He can bench press 240 now.
He works out every day at the gym. But he doesn’t have the budget that will support the kind of high quality diet that most body builders use when they are trying to put on muscle. Bread, rice, and beans are his stables. He’s not complaining.
A year ago he was lying unconscious on my bathroom floor from a heroin overdose.
Seven months ago, fresh off the streets, he was so skinny you could count every bone in his body.
But now, after six months clean, he’s starting to look like The Hulk. In a good way.
The thing is, the way it was before never seemed real, always seemed like a bad dream. It wasn’t who he really is.
And now I have my son back.
I feel so blessed. I hope every grieving mother who reads this, knows there’s hope for their sons and daughters too. Six months clean can make a world of difference.
There’s much to celebrate this Thanksgiving.