Today.

Today was better.

River, age three, got in to my lotion. It's not fancy stuff, just whatever I buy that smells good at Wal-Mart. When I came across her, she was covered, as was the floor, the counter and the cupboards. My initial gasp was drawn back in to a quiet, internal "oh fuck haha".

A year or so ago, maybe a few months ago, I'd have raged at her. Worse still, I would have dragged her in to the hall way, loomed over her with my arms raised as I screamed. I'd have screamed and dropped to my knees howling at the absurdity of it all. I'd have yanked her out of the bathroom and cried as I mopped up the mess.

Instead, I said, "Hey Buddy. You look like you found my lotion, and maybe you got too much. Could I have some? I could use a little." She smeared some on offered hands and arm. Together, we wiped up the excess with dirty towels and put them in the washer.

I feel like I have come so far. The meds, the therapy. The weed. How my family has suffered so much. I am grateful for this small moment.