My brother called this afternoon. I wanted to cry; from happiness at hearing his voice, from relief that he's okay.
He sounds good. He sounds level-headed and clear and he makes sense when he talks. He acknowledges his past mistakes. He sees the error of his ways.
For now, at least.
He's not scared, he's not miserable, he's not in danger. He feels lucky to be where he is and not somewhere worse. He knows he screwed up and that he has to do his time. (Those really are his words.)
I feel so relieved. To know he's not suffering, that maybe he'll make the right choices next time he has choices to make, that he can think clearly when his mind isn't all fucked up with drugs.
Oh please let this be the last time.