I remember the Spring of 2011 being the most ridiculously vibrant shade of everything like nobody’s business had ever seen before. It was too perfect for words to describe, and in all honesty, I’m not sure if it really actually was this way or if it was maybe just partly the weather being stupidly perfect in addition to the fact that it was the first Spring that I’d been sober for in like seven years…but the grass was greener and the sky was bluer, and the air seemed fresher than I’d ever experienced it being before.
We were riding around on one especially picturesque afternoon with the top down, and the kids were laughing. We’d just seen some movie about little people with tails who lived in the hollowed out walls and floors of some house somewhere…The Borrowers I think…We’d gotten ice cream or something somewhere, too, maybe.
I was on a day pass from treatment. I didn’t know what I was doing. I still wasn’t awake yet. Not really. Experiences that beautiful are almost wasted on people like the kind of me I was back then, except that turned out not to be true in the long run, because I had to go through being that kind of me before I could ever get here.
I wish I could have learned truth without pain. Maybe that’s wanting too much.