Just another day... At a time.

Sunlight flooded in through the blinds. Almost simultaneously he heard a rhythmic knocking at the door. Was it obnoxiously sunny before or after his daughters had knocked on his door? Who knows, he thought groggily as he got up and opened up, knowing this was the official start of his day. He felt 2 pairs of little hands wrap around his legs as his girls looked up at him with a smile. They each looked like their mother, which always gave the man relief. Big beautiful eyes, long hair, and of course hearts bigger than the entire universe. The man picked them both up and gave them kisses. They were kinda cute when they weren't driving him and the wife crazy, the man thought to himself with a smile. A short while later, they were dressed, out the door, and his wife was walking out the door with an "I love you" and a kiss. That was one of his least favorite moments of each day, the man sadly thought. His wife and him lead a normal, if not slightly more stressful and boring than on average, and that is what made him happy. The moments he spent with her, even though their relationship had lasted years at this point, still made him just as happy as she always did. He decided he had spent enough tine in his head, as it was a place he often found himself and a place he had decided was best left alone a long time ago. So he uttered the words "just another normal day" and pushed on. He fed the cats, all four of them strays and rescues. No different from himself in a way, the man thought. Just as his wife had been the driving force behind rescuing the cats from a cruel fate on the streets, she had also led a one man war to save the man when he didn't think of himself as worth saving. He Cleaned the litter, did the laundry, and cleaned the living room. His phone sat and hauntingly stared at him from the corner of the room, blasting out the radio station the man liked but secretly saying something else entirely that it took everything for the man to ignore. Idle hands, he thought with a smirk. He decided to drive. That usually helped. He even decided to make it productive and drove to the grocery store. He passed the rows of food, and toys, and hygiene products. He passed the pharmacy and couldn't help taking a glance sideways. He had made more then a few trips to the pharmacy back where he grew up. He gathered his cart together and went up front, exchanging pleasantries with the clerk. But as the man looked at him, the first thing he noticed was his long sleeves, despite it being hotter than Hades today. And then he saw the marks on the back of his hand and his pupils so pinpointed the man could feel them drilling into his veins. But he didn't show any of this. He didn't say anything. What could he possibly say? Who was he to preach anything? He just.. Understood. He gave a silent nod, as if to say good luck to the young man and went to his car. While the day continued as usual, the cashiers pupils floated through his head. He looked so content. So care free. As if there wasn't a thing on this mortal plane that could possibly make him anxious or upset. But he knew the truth. That instant gratification, it costs a very steep price. It feels like breaking every chain holding you, yet in reality each shot is like another ankle weight getting snapped on the leg of both the user and their loved ones. He shook his head and focused on his usual schedule. A normal day, the man continued to recite to himself. He got his lovely little ones off the bus, greeted the wife upon her return, and went to hop in the shower. As the water hit his head, all he could think about was this normal day. And how grateful he was for that. As he got out and dressed, he started down the stairs. A flickering light greeted him at the bottom of the stairs. The man, understandably confused, walked slowly into view of his dining room. Where his wife and 2 daughters stood there with a cake. On it was the words "congratulations on a year daddy!" The man stepped forward as tears welled in his eyes. A year. A year since he last waged a very personal war against his own perception of himself. He was not at his lowest a year prior, oh no. That had come much earlier. Just getting to the point of finally being able to have a normal day was such a huge deal. He remembered shivering in the cold car of a random dealership, one foolish enough to leave the doors unlocked. He remembered all the lies. The stories. The excuses. He remembered the pain. Not his own. He'd become either numb or masochistic, he honestly didn't know which. No, he remembered the pain he caused all the people he loved. He remembered the days of waking up at 4am to start the grind of trying to get enough money to stay upright and free of withdrawals for an entire day. And then he thought about his gratuity. In those days, he remembered seeing those wax bags and feeling grateful. Grateful for something that made it a personal mission to rip away any resemblance of happiness and love from his life and take its place. Now he was grateful for a day that didn't involve him leaving the house. These normal days, they had no idea what they meant to him. He hadn't even kept track of the days. But she had. It was officially a year since he got clean off Heroin. The hardest battle he had ever fought. She watched him battle through rehabs and relapses. Then something clicked and the relapses stopped. But he did it for them. They were his strength. And as long as he had them, hed make sure never to take another normal day for granted.