Twenty eight years ago I gave birth to a beautiful boy. I was so young (17), he saved me back then and he made me responsible to give him the best life I could give. We grew up together. Never any problems in school or with peers. He was my football star. Until he broke his leg his junior year. No more football and more opioids came. He struggle he declined he dropped out. He blamed he denied he escaped...life. I ignored, I denied, I escaped I seen what I wanted to see. I enabled! Today is his birthday he's 28 and homeless and lost. I wonder how is he what is he doing...why can't he wake up from the poison that fills his mind? Why can't he be that football star in society now... as he once was then? I'm tired of feeling the guilt and taking the blame. I'm tired of putting me on the side lines cheering for the star to rise and catching the ball when he drops it...over and over and over again. I deserve to be the star of my life, yeah? Today is his 28th birthday and I pray he hits his rock bottom and rise to the glory of this beautiful life. I hope he has the strength to reach out to catch that ball of help out there and win the struggle of addiction and mental health support made available to him. For only he can win the game and I will cheer him on to the touchdown.