The Day Pass...Our 8 Hours of "Wonderful"

Last Saturday, Addi had her first day pass. Me, my mom, my son and his wife all drove to visit her for her 8 hour pass. She got this privilege because she has been in treatment for 4 months. She has been clean 148 days today. I found this nifty website that I can input her first clean day and it calculates it for me. Thank God. I was really having a hard time adding the days accurately. I wish I would have thought to check online two months ago. I cannot complain though. My fingers happily added up the time on the calendar. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday that I was driving her to treatment and I had zero faith. Today, it feels like I have given birth to a new child. My child. The funny one. The smart and witty one. The one I remember.

I admit it was a strange feeling taking her in my car. I felt like I was stealing her in a way. I also felt a sense of nervousness. "Would this trigger something, seeing all of us outside of her safe haven?" When we knocked on the door, she came to the door dressed like a doll and her hair was fixed so pretty. She looked like she had prepared for a special date. I had to sign her out like she was in grade school again and acknowledgement that we understood that she would be tested for drugs upon her return. I thought to myself, "Isn't it sad that they even have to do this? Why on earth would anyone take their loved one out of a treatment center on a day pass and take them to do drugs?"  Can you imagine the selfishness, stupidity and irresponsibility? It happens though, or they wouldn't have the rules.

We met her brother and his wife at a restaurant to begin our visit. She hadn't seen her little brother since he became a married man. I'll be honest--the rest of us were chopped liver at that point...she wanted to see him. She was dying to see him. She could hardly stand it. I think she almost knocked over his tall self when she jumped into his arms for a big hug. She was also happy to see her new sister in law. She says that missing their wedding has been one of the lowest times she has had during her 4 months inpatient.

We had lunch and then decided to take her shopping. We decided to go to the mall. It was sort of a scary concept and I tried not to seem paranoid, but at times I am sure it showed. She had pawned a majority of her belongings and has been living with clothes that the rest of us could "spare" and a few items we have purchased since she has been there. She isn't the same pale, thin, sickly looking girl with a painful looking and damaged body. I hadn't seen her in sleeveless clothes in a long time, but she had on a short sleeved shirt and her arms looked so good. She even showed me her back, where she has allowed it to see some sunshine and her wounds are healed. Scars are fainter. She truly is healing inside and out. Our first stop was a bookstore. She wanted to look at some motivational and Christian books. She reads and studies so much now, that she has re-established her love of reading. I have all of her old books in the attic from when she moved out the very first time. I just found them the other day. She loved Nicholas Sparks and things like that. I am glad I was smart enough to box them up and put them away several years ago. I'm also glad that she has discovered reading again and how much she loves it.

My daughter in law was a God send when we went shopping. She worked in retail in college, so she was able to find items that looked so good on Addi. Things that I couldn't imagine picking out. Me and my mom have similar personalities and although we have the best of intentions, sometimes our words come out wrong. Addi asked me really sweetly, "Mom, could Jordan just help me?" It was a kind way of saying "You and Nina are killing my confidence."  She expected nothing from us, never asked for anything--so it felt good to do things for her. It felt appreciated.

I found myself constantly watching her every move. Was she checking out dudes at the mall? Was she eyeing the exits? Was she feeling like she wouldn't want to go back? I saw none of those signs. I don't even think she noticed there were men at the mall other than her brother. I don't think she noticed there were people at the mall other than her family. She was happy. She was revived. She was so glad to be with us.

The eight hours cruised by quickly. When it was time to take her back, I felt sort of sad. I kept thinking of the line in Steel Magnolias when Sally Field buries her daughter and goes ballistic at the cemetery. "I can jog all the way to Texas and back, but my daughter can't! She never could!" I sort of feel that way sometimes. I feel "Why can't I enjoy dinner, shopping, and go to a movie and not feel that she will disappear back into the dark night?"  Will that feeling ever go away? Will I ever feel safe?" It's only been 148 days. In due time, if she keeps moving forward, I hope the fear subsides. I hope that she gets the strength to be able to ignore any bit of temptation to lead her back to that life.   On the other hand, I feel like the line Julia Roberts says in that movie "I'd rather have 30 minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special."  We have had a lot of special moments in our lives--but now I see these days with my daughter as blessings. I see each day she is clean as a gift. I see her life as a wonderful, beautiful gift to me. I cherish every 30 minutes of wonderful she gives us.

I'm already counting down to our next visit and our next 30 minutes of wonderful.