Things are going well—better than they’ve gone in years—and it feels like I’m finally settling into a calmer, healthier version of myself just in time for Christmas. Mom and I have been bonding a lot lately, patching things up in ways I didn’t think were possible. We had some rough years, real rough, but the cancer scare shook us both awake. Suddenly the grudges, the misunderstandings, the stubbornness—none of that mattered as much as just being there for each other.
And then came Whiskey the Kitty.
My Christmas gift from Mom turned out to be the little cherry on top of the cake—or maybe the whole cake. Whiskey filled a space we both didn’t even realize had gotten so empty. Mom was lonely in the house. I was lonely everywhere. Now we’ve got this tiny black-and-white ball of chaos who thinks she runs the place, and somehow, that’s exactly what we needed. She’s already brought more life, laughter, and late-night scratches than I ever expected.
This year, Mom and I are spending Christmas together at Downtown Disney. Believe it or not, she’s never been there. After everything we’ve gone through, it feels symbolic—a new place, a new tradition, a new start. And through all of this, she’s been right beside me while I quit smoking. She listens to me read these blog posts every night, nodding along, encouraging me, rooting for me.
Some people don’t take much interest in my quit anymore. Can’t blame them—I’ve quit everything at some point. Cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, peanut M&M’s… you name it, I’ve quit it, relapsed on it, quit it again. But this time feels different. I’m different.
And tonight, with Christmas lights going up and Whiskey leaping below the tree like a deranged elf, I feel strong. Supported. Loved.
I got this.
by Dan and Bonkers
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