Look at the Life I Got to Be Here For

How was all the birdseed gone already?

A Mike Powell squirrel, that’s how! This bastard just long-jumped 8 feet from the fence to the bird feeder.

“I welcome all outdoor creatures to explore my backyard,” I told the folks at the bird store. But now I’m reconsidering the damn immigration policy.

I mean c’mon. I even moved the bird feeder further away from the fence.

Still, these long-jumping rodents who walk as straight a line as me during my first DUI stop always found a way to get to the birdseed.

My family’s laughter at my frustration only fueled my fire.

Then Father’s Day changed the whole damn game. Two small squirrel feeders.

One built like a small picnic table and the other like a backyard lounge chair. Not that the squirrels gave a shit what they looked like. But they sure were interested in the corn cobs I now can’t seem to keep stocked for ‘em.

With summer coming to a close, we have some of the fattest tree acrobats in the neighborhood.

Somehow, This Became My Life

One early morning, sitting in the dark with only shadows moving across the backyard, I felt a presence with me.

Not some god in the universe. But something felt different.

There it was and it scared the shit out of me! A fox came trotting along the back patio only a few feet past me.

I’ve seen foxes and raccoons, and once even a big-ass turkey.

And honestly, after my heart rate came back down to normal it seemed more like a cool story than anything spectacular.

The fox was only one of a whole bunch of ordinary things that happened this spring and summer.

Planting new grass, maintaining gardens, celebrating birthdays and retirements, or having date nights with my youngest.

None of these things seemed particularly remarkable while they were happening.

It wasn’t until I began to look back that they emerged as evidence that I am becoming invested in life.

The Things I Got to Be Here For

The joy and excitement on my stepdaughter’s face as we planted strawberries for the first time has been one of the best “trail-finds” I have kept.

Our family wanted to garden better this year. So I built some additional garden boxes out of old scrap wood. Filled them up. And she mentioned wanting to try strawberries this year. But we were out of room.

Without hesitation, I grabbed some more scraps of lumber. Built a three-tier box. And we headed out to a local farmer to get some strawberry plants.

She was so thrilled to see those little plants flower and small buds turn to actual fruit. She even collected small rocks to paint like strawberries and put in with the plants so the birds wouldn’t eat her harvest.

Apparently the birds needed a little misinformation campaign of their own.

The harvest hasn’t been huge and we lost several plants, but we’ve learned a lot about growing strawberries.

We’ve gotten dirty and we’ve smiled.

Participating in someone else’s life? That has been worth more than full jars of jam!

The Summer Got Bigger

Another incredible “trail-find” from this season was a visit to see my new grandson along with his dads.

Just don’t ask me about the wrong gate and that I thought I might get shot or arrested by a gung-ho military officer.

There were birthdays and celebrations.

My oldest even made the long trip down on two occasions with her two boys.

And seeing the surprised excitement on my stepdaughter’s face as we pulled into the gates of Adventureland.

The chance to witness a momma Oriole feeding her babies.

Fixing up a couple bike finds for dear friends and introducing them to the joy of adventurous rides.

A vacation to the Ozarks, which included a few nervous laughs as I almost took out a million-dollar boat one of those days.

Moments before proving that renting me a boat may have required better risk assessment.

And going to see the original, “The Fast and the Furious,” on the big screen with my youngest, our absolute favorite movie saga.

Don’t judge us.

And Then It Hit Me

“Look at the life I got to be here for!”

It hasn’t been about what I’ve done this spring and summer. Instead, it has been about my presence.

I saw a young girl go from “wanting” to “doing.” To see her reaction when that first fruit appeared was more important to me than I expected.

As the sun crested over the bluffs of the Ozarks, I felt the warmth of a new day starting. A Great Blue Heron looking for its morning snack. The sound of waves against the dock. Stray kittens in the forest.

Being present allowed me to smell the freshness as the rain cooled the hot summer day. Even if it showed me that we may have planted too much catnip.

Last Summer Could Have Changed Everything

I almost threw away five years of clean time when I lost my job last summer. I’m convinced that had I decided I needed more research in my addiction, I wouldn’t be here today writing about squirrels sitting on a feeder shaped like a picnic table nibbling on corn cobs.

I wouldn’t have given two shits about a baby Robin that fell out of its nest or that I tried to place it in a safe place.

Five-plus years didn’t make me bulletproof. With nudging from my wife and instead of crawling back in a hole, I remembered to pause.

To just fucking stop moving long enough to realize what I was about to do.

And then I breathed.

Recovery After the Emergency

“Plan for tomorrow. Work toward something bigger. Live where your feet are today.”

My early recovery was simply just not using. For the day. The minute. Or even the second. The shit I was going through or the milestones I was celebrating. “Just don’t put it in your hand.”

Today? Long-term addiction recovery for me has expanded. I’m still an addict. And I respect what addiction can and will do to me.

But my entire existence isn’t organized around avoiding relapse.

I don’t have to use today.

Instead, I get to fucking have today. In this minute, I get to live life with people who I care about and who care about me. For this second, I get to notice what’s happening around me.

The Life Between the Big Moments

Addiction used to consume nearly all of my mental real estate.

“Where am I going to get it?” “When can I use it?” “Do I have enough?” and on and on.

Now I give more thought than any rational adult probably should to scatterbrained squirrels.

Taking an old crusty garden hose and turning it into a DIY soaker.

And a mini catnip cartel? Yes. Because it is okay to joke about my past and it makes the kitties happy.

Getting my ass out of bed in the morning to bike to work more than the three measly times I have.

“Research” is still part of my story.

Long-term addiction recovery is something I actively maintain.

What matters today is that it doesn’t get all the fucking acreage in my head anymore.

Not Everything Was Good

That baby Robin I tried to save. It didn’t make it very long.

Some of the trees I planted gave up.

And being impatient with garden planting led to a few plants freezing.

Even as I’m writing, I’m still working through old job resentments that haven’t disappeared.

My recovery hasn’t produced some special, protected little snow globe sitting on a mantle. Despite all the good and positive things I’m reflecting on, there have been some difficult days too.

And I know there are more to come.

Becoming Part of Something Again

For me, being around like-minded fuck-ups is important to my long-term addiction recovery. AA taught me that in the beginning.

Today, NA seems to be the best soil for me.

But I struggle often to share. And it’s been weighing on my mind for quite some time.

One night, the topic was, believe it or not, “Is my life today worth it?” I remember sitting in that chair and thinking to myself, “What the fuck, man? I’m literally writing about this.”

I had to share.

After the meeting, the meeting chair told me how much they appreciated me being there.

My friends greet me by my name and a hug. They’re concerned when they don’t get to talk with me.

Not by spectating but instead by participating.

Fall Starts Showing Up

The garden didn’t do everything I wanted it to. Still, it gave us plenty to be here for.

The air is getting cooler in the early mornings now as I sit outside preparing my mind for the day ahead with my coffee and daily readings.

The garden has slowed.

It’s time to harvest and dry out the remaining catnip so the kitties don’t go through withdrawals over the winter.

With these changes, my mind begins to spin in a million directions.

A better drip system, fall yard work, next year’s plans…

Fall and winter affect me differently, and I’ve learned enough about myself to respect that.

I’ll prepare for darker seasons without treating them like something I have to survive until spring.

There is still life here.