Mother’s Day in Prison (A short story) I didn’t want her to come see me. But I knew she was coming. Mom was going to drive 300 miles to come see my wretched soul, on a day she could have easily spent anywhere else in the world, especially on a special day like this. I got her card early Monday after the officers distributed the inmate mail. Although I was hoping for some money, I did get some, but inside the card was a note that sent shocks through my body. Mom was coming for a visit…on Mother’s Day. How could she do this to me? Just when I was getting the hang of this damn sentence, just as I was finding my marks, now I have to face the one person on this planet that I feared to disappoint the most. I have no problem facing God; He already knows my sins anyway. But mom was different. This was much harder. I had wished that the week would come to a stop, as if I could stop time and keep mom from coming. Why would she want to see me? Why now, of all days? Was this a mockery of my incarceration? Was she trying to “rub it in” that my failure has hurt her and she wanted me to see that pain on the one day we are supposed to honor our moms? I walked back to my locker and tossed the card inside, almost forgetting that mom put $100 in my inmate account; certainly that would come in handy, I was getting the munchies more and more, but with no money it was getting tough. Mom was always on time making sure I had a few dollars, but I also knew she had bills to pay too. I never asked her to send me money, even if I wanted to. I knew were not rich, and I also reasoned that maybe me being broke in prison should also be part of my punishment. No need pulling mom into debt for my sorry butt. “What’s up kid?” said Joe. Joe was one of the elder inmates, who worked on road squad. Strangely enough, he was one of the guys that helped me break the stigma that “all inmates are animals”. I could swear that if he was on the street, he might be a pretty decent guy to talk with. He was bigger than I was, and liked to lift weights when he could. By no means would he ever be confused as a weightlifter, but you could tell that he was no softie. “Nothin much, just hangin in there.” I said to him as I closed my locker door. “You ever get any word from your folks?” “Yeah…got a card today.” I said, as Joe seemed to pick up the tone. “Something wrong?” “Nah, I finally got a few dollars in my account, but she wants to come on Mother’s Day.” “And your problem is?” “I…I don’t want mom to see me like this… you know.” “Man, you momma don’t give a damn what you look like, to her you are always gonna be her baby, and she needs to know that you are doing ok.” “I tell her I’m fine every time we talk, and every letter I send. I mean, I know I screwed up, and I know lots of people out there are disappointed in me, hell I don’t need to be reminded by the one person I really care about.” “Kid, let me ask you something…” said Joe as he seemed more serious than normal. “Yeah?” I said, looking sincerely at Joe. “Don’t be offended, but what if your mom died today?” “What the hell is that…” “Hold up, here me out kid,” said Joe as he held his hand in gesture of peace. “I am saying that what if you never got to see your mom again. What would be the last thing you would remember of her?” I couldn’t answer for awhile, because the idea of my mom dying was foolish. Mom is supposed to live forever, at least longer than me. She is in good health, and she does a bit of exercise. Why would she die…why now? God can’t be THAT cruel. But then I started to think…what IF she did die before I got to see her this weekend? That would mean that the last time I saw her was…the day I was carried out the courtroom in shackles… The saddest day of my life. I was too afraid to look back to mom; it would have clearly broken my heart to see my mother crying, as well as my family, as I was taken away from them. I would have gladly shot myself in the head instead of bearing that kind of emotional pain. It was then I started to understand what Joe was trying to get across, and looked back at him. “I…I get your point.” I said apologetically. “Kid, you are one of them short timers, so you haven’t been in here as long as a lot of us, and I’m gonna tell you something. Some of us in here would do anything to get a visit from our moms…especially on Mother’s Day. But some of us have been in too long, some of us burned our bridges so when Mother’s Day comes along, it’s just a day to us.” “I…know. It’s just that…” “Are you ashamed of your mom?” “No…I’m ashamed of ME.” I said as I sat down on my bunk. It was a good thing there wasn’t a lot of guys in the dorm, because I am very guarded on what I say in the dorms, but Joe was one of the guys that I could talk a little to. He wasn’t too “high and mighty” and he also wasn’t institutionalized, even though he has been down for 13 years. I took a deep sigh as I looked down to my boots. I did NOT want mom to visit me, not here, not now. But it was almost like she was forcing me to relive the pain of my failure by seeing her in the visitation room. I had not yet gotten a full handle on my prison sentence, and this was not the time for mom to visit. She was making my life a hell. “So, whatcha gonna do, deny her visit?” “Hell no, I can’t tell mom she can’t come visit!” “Then that means you gotta see her.” “Yeah….” Joe seemed to find some humor in my problem as he snickered and turned to open his locker and grab a pack of single-serve coffee and a small Styrofoam cup, before turning back to me. “Do me a favor when you see her” “Huh?” I said, curious at this request. “When she comes to see you, I want you to remember that she needs to see that you are ok. You kept telling her that you are ok, now prove it. She does NOT need to see a sad faced inmate who looks like he lost his puppy. Your mom needs to know that you are gonna make it, so give her that reason. You go to that visit, and you carry yourself as best as you can.” “Why, what’s the difference?” I asked “The difference, kid, is that your momma needs your strength just as much as you need hers. You said you got some money today, and you told me she looks out for you a lot; this is your chance to show her how much you appreciate her. It’s not much, but trust me, it’s the world to her…otherwise she would not be coming here on Mother’s Day to see you.” Joe made sense, although I still didn’t want mom to come. I took his words with value and told him I would try. From that day through the week, I thought about some of the things Joe said, but at the same time I was hoping that mom would send a card saying that “something came up” and she could not come to see me. I mean, there is no real value in driving all that way just for a one hour visit with a criminal…I am not worth that… At least that’s how I felt. Monday jumped to Friday almost too fast, as my heart started to race…mom was coming to see me this weekend…and I was afraid. The day of the visit, I bargained with a couple of guys in the clothes house to get me the newest pair of pants, t-shirt and inmate jacket that they could find. I knew it was against the rules, but DOC can go to hell as far as I cared. I got a nice shave and haircut and looked almost brand new as I paced the yard, waiting for my name…and when I heard it, my heart jumped into my throat. Mom was here. My God, what do I do? I don’t think I was ever as nervous as I was that second, but I had to collect myself immediately. I have an hour for visit, so I made a fast-paced walk to the visitation area. Once there, I was patted down by the officers as I looked out across the large room. I saw mom and my heart nearly stopped. She came. My mom came. My mom came…to see me. And suddenly the restraints of my mom coming to see this wretched soul in prison were evicted and replaced by the love for this courageous woman who would clearly walk through the depths of hell to see her son. At that moment mom saw me, and I saw her, and a very familiar smile opened on both our faces…no doubt we were related; the smiles were identical. I was allowed a hug, watched from afar by officers, but not so much that we had to be too careful. The hug might have been about 10 seconds, but it felt like 10 minutes. For those special moments, it was like I was home, in mom’s arms, the safest place in the entire world. In those moments, I felt that nothing could go wrong, mom was here. I looked at her, and she looked at me with eyes of pure love, not conviction, not of condemnation. She looked at me as her son. We sat down and began to talk, lots of stuff about how I looked, how she looked and how we were doing. She asked to see if I got the money she sent, and I told here that I did, and what I was doing with it. Lots of the talk were generic, but ever so soothing to just be there, to hear mom AND see here, instead of hearing her over the phone. “Mom, why did you want to see me on Mother’s Day?” “Because I wanted to see how you were doing?” “But mom, I know there were lots of other things going on out there, you said that the church was having a dinner for moms, and you said some of the family was going to be in town for the weekend. You could have done that instead of seeing me.” “No I couldn’t.” mom said with a smile that almost disarmed me of my attempt to remember what Joe told me, to keep myself positive to give her strength. “Why? Is something wrong?” I said, starting to worry. “No, and don’t start getting all worked up baby,” reassured mom. Mom reached over and grasped my hands warmly, as I started to feel like I was going to school for the first time. I remember that day when mom walked me to the steps of the school as I held on tightly to her. “Honey, I didn’t come here to make you feel bad, I came because I miss my baby.” “I know mom, it’s just, you know…” “You think I’m ashamed of you?” asked mom gently. “Well, you’d have every right to be.” “Is that what you think? Have you been here in prison worried whether I love you or not, or if our family has thrown you out because you broke the law?” I hesitated to answer…because I DID believe that. “Look at me baby” said mom in a sweet, but stern whisper. I mustered the strength to look at mom, now realizing that the one thing that Joe told me was now being seriously challenged. From the pit of my stomach and my heart I really, really felt that I let mom down…and everyone else. I didn’t deserve anyone’s love or respect, so maybe I felt isolating myself in prison was punishment enough…but I was wondering if I was being selfish to those who really loved me, regardless of my faults. I looked at mom, and saw that same smile still there…even though mines had faded. “Sweetheart, the entire family and church, and your friends all told me to tell you that they miss you and they want you to know that they still love you.” “Yeah, but I know I screwed up…” “Hush…that is not why I came this long way. I came to see my baby, and that smile you gave me awhile ago.” “Mom…I…I’m sorry. I really am.” “I know…but I still want that smile before I go.” I managed to crack a weak smile, knowing it wasn’t as good as the first one I gave when I saw mom in the visitation room. I was now fighting my feelings, knowing damned well that I don’t deserve my mom’s love, and it was hurting me deep inside. Mom didn’t deserve this, she deserved to have a college grad who went to law school or medical school making $100,000 a year and taking good care of her. She deserved to have a son that made good in sports, with some multi-million dollar deal and serving the community. Mom deserved that. But she got me. I felt awful. And maybe mom sensed that, and clasped my hands warmly and looked at me, as if trying to see into my soul. I really believed mom had some kinda strange power to do that, even when I was growing up. She always seemed to know what was wrong with me. “Baby, if you want to make my Mother’s Day as good as it can get, tell me that you are doing fine in here, and that you will be ok, and convince me that what you are telling me is true, so I don’t have to worry about you.” “Mom…I am ok…honest.” “Are you sure? Because I told you about those prison support sites I visit, and I read lots of bad things. There is almost nobody there that can talk about what really goes on inside, and sometimes I worry about you.” “Mom, I promise you, I am doing ok. I ain’t been in no fight, I haven’t been cut or raped…although there are a couple of guys I wonder about when I go to the shower…” Mom raised her eyebrow, suddenly concerned about my last statement. I quickly deflated the issue with the smile mom wanted from me, and laughed a bit. “No, it ain’t like that…at least not to me…you just gotta be careful at times.” “Careful?” asked mom. “Well, it’s a community shower, just like at high school or at the health clubs, you just gotta be familiar about when you take a shower. Not much to it” Mom still held her eyebrows in a sincere look. “Mom, it’s ok, will ya stop worrying about that?” I said with a smile. I think mom realized that maybe she was overly concerned, and seeing that my smiles were authentic, she realized that maybe it wasn’t as big a deal as she might have thought. “Ok…I just don’t like the idea of any man looking at my baby’s butt” “MOM!” I said, embarrassed at what she said. For the first time in forever, we both had a decent laugh at that, and in that laugh was a medicine that seemed to bring a veil of comfort to both of us. Mom seemed to be very pleased that I was in good spirits, as I was in her. “Mom, I…I am really glad you came, I just didn’t know how to take it when you said you were coming to see me. I just felt like I didn’t deserve it.” “Baby, you are my son, I don’t care what happens, you being my son will never change. And I am not going to let you think that you have to do this alone. I know you have to be here until they release you, but I want you to know that I am always, ALWAYS thinking about you.” “But that’s just it mom, I don’t want you worried sick about me. I get worried that you might be home crying about me, and it makes me feel down.” “That’s why I had to see you baby. Sometimes I read some of those posts and I get scared for you. And lots of times those fears are based off nothing but ignorance. But I saw one guy that actually had been in prison, and I wrote him and asked him for some advice. He told me that the best thing for me to do was to be strong for you, so you would know that I was ok.” “Funny, I was told the same thing by a guy here too. It was just that I didn‘t want you to see me here, of all places.” I said. “I would rather see you here than not see you at all.” said mom. “Mom. I love you, you know that, right?” “I always knew that baby, I never lost sleep over that.” Almost all too soon the visit had reached it’s end, and I felt like a person in the middle of a wonderful dream, only to be awaken by the alarm clock. I wanted to talk to mom about so many other things, but I was satisfied with the little time we did have. I really thought it would be much more emotional, that mom would cry, but I think I was much closer to crying than she was. I kept my smile on brightly as I hugged mom once more before she had to go, as she gave me a kiss on my cheeks. “Don’t you worry one second about me baby, I am fine now.” she said. “Same here mom. I love you.” As we parted ways, that warm feeling carried be through the strip search, something I truly hated, but was willing to endure for the time. I went back to the dorm, and as I thought about mom, I had initially thought that she would be crying in that car all the way back home, but I realized that IF she did, it wouldn’t be tears of sadness, it would be tears of comfort. Mom would truly believe that I was going to be ok. But it was that feeling, and others like it, that suddenly had me feeling down. The euphoria of the visit had now worn out, and I was reduced back to the lowly life of a criminal, an inmate. The weight of my condemnation had returned, and it weighed heavy on my heart. I went back to the dorm, and with the yard still open, decided to take a nap. It would be awhile before dinner was served, but now I wasn’t hungry…I was homesick. I miss mom already, and she hadn’t been gone a half hour. I laid on the bunk and covered my face with my inmate jacket. In my thoughts I started feeling worse, for no real reason except that I miss my mom. I then started to feel disappointed that I let her down. She drove all this way, when she didn’t have to. It was my fault. I let her down, I… “Yo, kid” “What.” I answered, knowing it was Joe. “You get to see your mom?” “Yeah.” I said, still under the jacket…close to crying. “Good. She’s gonna be fine now.” “How can you say that?” I said as I removed my jacket and looked at him. “Cause, she got to see you.” “And that means she’s going to be perfect and never worry about me again?” “No, I didn’t say that. I said she’s gonna be fine.” “What’s the difference?” I asked. “The difference kid,” started Joe as he sat on his bunk and opened a bag of snacks he got from canteen and tossed me a Butterfinger, “is that she found comfort”. “I don’t understand.” “Your mom came all this way to do two things. Get comfort and to give comfort. She needed to know that you were ok, and she had to see it for herself. No letter or phonecall can really give that. But she also came to give you some strength, because you needed it. She came to let you know that she will be fine if YOU are ok” “Well, I guess she got that. She was stronger than me in the visit.” “It was not about who was stronger kid, it was about being there for each other.” I looked at the Butterfinger, not really hungry, but now desiring a snack before dinner. But what Joe said made sense, and in that there was a returning comfort, one I needed before I went too far on that path of depression. I smiled a bit and looked to Joe. “I guess you’re right. Thanks.” “No problem kid, we gotta help each other while we are here.” “You sure you’re not some undercover cop or something? You just don’t look like a guy that should be here.” I said, as I opened the candy bar and took a bite. “Look who’s talking? You look like you just graduated from college.” said Joe. “Well, I did.” “Hell, anybody could see that. It proves that anyone can end up in prison. Prison is not just a bunch of jackasses who don’t respect society. Some guys made mistakes, some are in bad positions. But sometimes the only real help we are going to get is from each other.” “Yeah…I see.” “So, did the visit go ok with you and your mom?” Joe asked. “Yeah…actually, it was perfect.” I said, with the same smile I gave to mom. Happy Mother’s Day mom.
Mother’s Day in Prison
(A short story)
I didn’t want her to come see me.
But I knew she was coming.
Mom was going to drive 300 miles to come see my wretched soul, on a day she could have easily spent anywhere else in the world, especially on a special day like this. I got her card early Monday after the officers distributed the inmate mail. Although I was hoping for some money, I did get some, but inside the card was a note that sent shocks through my body.
Mom was coming for a visit…on Mother’s Day.
How could she do this to me?
Just when I was getting the hang of this damn sentence, just as I was finding my marks, now I have to face the one person on this planet that I feared to disappoint the most. I have no problem facing God; He already knows my sins anyway. But mom was different. This was much harder.
I had wished that the week would come to a stop, as if I could stop time and keep mom from coming. Why would she want to see me? Why now, of all days? Was this a mockery of my incarceration? Was she trying to “rub it in” that my failure has hurt her and she wanted me to see that pain on the one day we are supposed to honor our moms?
I walked back to my locker and tossed the card inside, almost forgetting that mom put $100 in my inmate account; certainly that would come in handy, I was getting the munchies more and more, but with no money it was getting tough. Mom was always on time making sure I had a few dollars, but I also knew she had bills to pay too. I never asked her to send me money, even if I wanted to. I knew were not rich, and I also reasoned that maybe me being broke in prison should also be part of my punishment. No need pulling mom into debt for my sorry butt.
“What’s up kid?” said Joe.
Joe was one of the elder inmates, who worked on road squad. Strangely enough, he was one of the guys that helped me break the stigma that “all inmates are animals”. I could swear that if he was on the street, he might be a pretty decent guy to talk with. He was bigger than I was, and liked to lift weights when he could. By no means would he ever be confused as a weightlifter, but you could tell that he was no softie.
“Nothin much, just hangin in there.” I said to him as I closed my locker door.
“You ever get any word from your folks?”
“Yeah…got a card today.” I said, as Joe seemed to pick up the tone.
“Something wrong?”
“Nah, I finally got a few dollars in my account, but she wants to come on Mother’s Day.”
“And your problem is?”
“I…I don’t want mom to see me like this… you know.”
“Man, you momma don’t give a damn what you look like, to her you are always gonna be her baby, and she needs to know that you are doing ok.”
“I tell her I’m fine every time we talk, and every letter I send. I mean, I know I screwed up, and I know lots of people out there are disappointed in me, hell I don’t need to be reminded by the one person I really care about.”
“Kid, let me ask you something…” said Joe as he seemed more serious than normal.
“Yeah?” I said, looking sincerely at Joe.
“Don’t be offended, but what if your mom died today?”
“What the hell is that…”
“Hold up, here me out kid,” said Joe as he held his hand in gesture of peace.
“I am saying that what if you never got to see your mom again. What would be the last thing you would remember of her?”
I couldn’t answer for awhile, because the idea of my mom dying was foolish. Mom is supposed to live forever, at least longer than me. She is in good health, and she does a bit of exercise. Why would she die…why now? God can’t be THAT cruel.
But then I started to think…what IF she did die before I got to see her this weekend? That would mean that the last time I saw her was…the day I was carried out the courtroom in shackles…
The saddest day of my life.
I was too afraid to look back to mom; it would have clearly broken my heart to see my mother crying, as well as my family, as I was taken away from them. I would have gladly shot myself in the head instead of bearing that kind of emotional pain.
It was then I started to understand what Joe was trying to get across, and looked back at him.
“I…I get your point.” I said apologetically.
“Kid, you are one of them short timers, so you haven’t been in here as long as a lot of us, and I’m gonna tell you something. Some of us in here would do anything to get a visit from our moms…especially on Mother’s Day. But some of us have been in too long, some of us burned our bridges so when Mother’s Day comes along, it’s just a day to us.”
“I…know. It’s just that…”
“Are you ashamed of your mom?”
“No…I’m ashamed of ME.” I said as I sat down on my bunk.
It was a good thing there wasn’t a lot of guys in the dorm, because I am very guarded on what I say in the dorms, but Joe was one of the guys that I could talk a little to. He wasn’t too “high and mighty” and he also wasn’t institutionalized, even though he has been down for 13 years.
I took a deep sigh as I looked down to my boots. I did NOT want mom to visit me, not here, not now. But it was almost like she was forcing me to relive the pain of my failure by seeing her in the visitation room. I had not yet gotten a full handle on my prison sentence, and this was not the time for mom to visit. She was making my life a hell.
“So, whatcha gonna do, deny her visit?”
“Hell no, I can’t tell mom she can’t come visit!”
“Then that means you gotta see her.”
“Yeah….”
Joe seemed to find some humor in my problem as he snickered and turned to open his locker and grab a pack of single-serve coffee and a small Styrofoam cup, before turning back to me.
“Do me a favor when you see her”
“Huh?” I said, curious at this request.
“When she comes to see you, I want you to remember that she needs to see that you are ok. You kept telling her that you are ok, now prove it. She does NOT need to see a sad faced inmate who looks like he lost his puppy. Your mom needs to know that you are gonna make it, so give her that reason. You go to that visit, and you carry yourself as best as you can.”
“Why, what’s the difference?” I asked
“The difference, kid, is that your momma needs your strength just as much as you need hers. You said you got some money today, and you told me she looks out for you a lot; this is your chance to show her how much you appreciate her. It’s not much, but trust me, it’s the world to her…otherwise she would not be coming here on Mother’s Day to see you.”
Joe made sense, although I still didn’t want mom to come. I took his words with value and told him I would try. From that day through the week, I thought about some of the things Joe said, but at the same time I was hoping that mom would send a card saying that “something came up” and she could not come to see me. I mean, there is no real value in driving all that way just for a one hour visit with a criminal…I am not worth that…
At least that’s how I felt.
Monday jumped to Friday almost too fast, as my heart started to race…mom was coming to see me this weekend…and I was afraid.
The day of the visit, I bargained with a couple of guys in the clothes house to get me the newest pair of pants, t-shirt and inmate jacket that they could find. I knew it was against the rules, but DOC can go to hell as far as I cared. I got a nice shave and haircut and looked almost brand new as I paced the yard, waiting for my name…and when I heard it, my heart jumped into my throat.
Mom was here.
My God, what do I do?
I don’t think I was ever as nervous as I was that second, but I had to collect myself immediately. I have an hour for visit, so I made a fast-paced walk to the visitation area. Once there, I was patted down by the officers as I looked out across the large room. I saw mom and my heart nearly stopped.
She came.
My mom came.
My mom came…to see me.
And suddenly the restraints of my mom coming to see this wretched soul in prison were evicted and replaced by the love for this courageous woman who would clearly walk through the depths of hell to see her son.
At that moment mom saw me, and I saw her, and a very familiar smile opened on both our faces…no doubt we were related; the smiles were identical.
I was allowed a hug, watched from afar by officers, but not so much that we had to be too careful. The hug might have been about 10 seconds, but it felt like 10 minutes. For those special moments, it was like I was home, in mom’s arms, the safest place in the entire world.
In those moments, I felt that nothing could go wrong, mom was here. I looked at her, and she looked at me with eyes of pure love, not conviction, not of condemnation. She looked at me as her son.
We sat down and began to talk, lots of stuff about how I looked, how she looked and how we were doing. She asked to see if I got the money she sent, and I told here that I did, and what I was doing with it. Lots of the talk were generic, but ever so soothing to just be there, to hear mom AND see here, instead of hearing her over the phone.
“Mom, why did you want to see me on Mother’s Day?”
“Because I wanted to see how you were doing?”
“But mom, I know there were lots of other things going on out there, you said that the church was having a dinner for moms, and you said some of the family was going to be in town for the weekend. You could have done that instead of seeing me.”
“No I couldn’t.” mom said with a smile that almost disarmed me of my attempt to remember what Joe told me, to keep myself positive to give her strength.
“Why? Is something wrong?” I said, starting to worry.
“No, and don’t start getting all worked up baby,” reassured mom.
Mom reached over and grasped my hands warmly, as I started to feel like I was going to school for the first time. I remember that day when mom walked me to the steps of the school as I held on tightly to her.
“Honey, I didn’t come here to make you feel bad, I came because I miss my baby.”
“I know mom, it’s just, you know…”
“You think I’m ashamed of you?” asked mom gently.
“Well, you’d have every right to be.”
“Is that what you think? Have you been here in prison worried whether I love you or not, or if our family has thrown you out because you broke the law?”
I hesitated to answer…because I DID believe that.
“Look at me baby” said mom in a sweet, but stern whisper.
I mustered the strength to look at mom, now realizing that the one thing that Joe told me was now being seriously challenged. From the pit of my stomach and my heart I really, really felt that I let mom down…and everyone else. I didn’t deserve anyone’s love or respect, so maybe I felt isolating myself in prison was punishment enough…but I was wondering if I was being selfish to those who really loved me, regardless of my faults.
I looked at mom, and saw that same smile still there…even though mines had faded.
“Sweetheart, the entire family and church, and your friends all told me to tell you that they miss you and they want you to know that they still love you.”
“Yeah, but I know I screwed up…”
“Hush…that is not why I came this long way. I came to see my baby, and that smile you gave me awhile ago.”
“Mom…I…I’m sorry. I really am.”
“I know…but I still want that smile before I go.”
I managed to crack a weak smile, knowing it wasn’t as good as the first one I gave when I saw mom in the visitation room. I was now fighting my feelings, knowing damned well that I don’t deserve my mom’s love, and it was hurting me deep inside. Mom didn’t deserve this, she deserved to have a college grad who went to law school or medical school making $100,000 a year and taking good care of her. She deserved to have a son that made good in sports, with some multi-million dollar deal and serving the community.
Mom deserved that.
But she got me.
I felt awful.
And maybe mom sensed that, and clasped my hands warmly and looked at me, as if trying to see into my soul. I really believed mom had some kinda strange power to do that, even when I was growing up. She always seemed to know what was wrong with me.
“Baby, if you want to make my Mother’s Day as good as it can get, tell me that you are doing fine in here, and that you will be ok, and convince me that what you are telling me is true, so I don’t have to worry about you.”
“Mom…I am ok…honest.”
“Are you sure? Because I told you about those prison support sites I visit, and I read lots of bad things. There is almost nobody there that can talk about what really goes on inside, and sometimes I worry about you.”
“Mom, I promise you, I am doing ok. I ain’t been in no fight, I haven’t been cut or raped…although there are a couple of guys I wonder about when I go to the shower…”
Mom raised her eyebrow, suddenly concerned about my last statement. I quickly deflated the issue with the smile mom wanted from me, and laughed a bit.
“No, it ain’t like that…at least not to me…you just gotta be careful at times.”
“Careful?” asked mom.
“Well, it’s a community shower, just like at high school or at the health clubs, you just gotta be familiar about when you take a shower. Not much to it”
Mom still held her eyebrows in a sincere look.
“Mom, it’s ok, will ya stop worrying about that?” I said with a smile.
I think mom realized that maybe she was overly concerned, and seeing that my smiles were authentic, she realized that maybe it wasn’t as big a deal as she might have thought.
“Ok…I just don’t like the idea of any man looking at my baby’s butt”
“MOM!” I said, embarrassed at what she said.
For the first time in forever, we both had a decent laugh at that, and in that laugh was a medicine that seemed to bring a veil of comfort to both of us. Mom seemed to be very pleased that I was in good spirits, as I was in her.
“Mom, I…I am really glad you came, I just didn’t know how to take it when you said you were coming to see me. I just felt like I didn’t deserve it.”
“Baby, you are my son, I don’t care what happens, you being my son will never change. And I am not going to let you think that you have to do this alone. I know you have to be here until they release you, but I want you to know that I am always, ALWAYS thinking about you.”
“But that’s just it mom, I don’t want you worried sick about me. I get worried that you might be home crying about me, and it makes me feel down.”
“That’s why I had to see you baby. Sometimes I read some of those posts and I get scared for you. And lots of times those fears are based off nothing but ignorance. But I saw one guy that actually had been in prison, and I wrote him and asked him for some advice. He told me that the best thing for me to do was to be strong for you, so you would know that I was ok.”
“Funny, I was told the same thing by a guy here too. It was just that I didn‘t want you to see me here, of all places.” I said.
“I would rather see you here than not see you at all.” said mom.
“Mom. I love you, you know that, right?”
“I always knew that baby, I never lost sleep over that.”
Almost all too soon the visit had reached it’s end, and I felt like a person in the middle of a wonderful dream, only to be awaken by the alarm clock. I wanted to talk to mom about so many other things, but I was satisfied with the little time we did have.
I really thought it would be much more emotional, that mom would cry, but I think I was much closer to crying than she was. I kept my smile on brightly as I hugged mom once more before she had to go, as she gave me a kiss on my cheeks.
“Don’t you worry one second about me baby, I am fine now.” she said.
“Same here mom. I love you.”
As we parted ways, that warm feeling carried be through the strip search, something I truly hated, but was willing to endure for the time. I went back to the dorm, and as I thought about mom, I had initially thought that she would be crying in that car all the way back home, but I realized that IF she did, it wouldn’t be tears of sadness, it would be tears of comfort.
Mom would truly believe that I was going to be ok.
But it was that feeling, and others like it, that suddenly had me feeling down. The euphoria of the visit had now worn out, and I was reduced back to the lowly life of a criminal, an inmate. The weight of my condemnation had returned, and it weighed heavy on my heart.
I went back to the dorm, and with the yard still open, decided to take a nap. It would be awhile before dinner was served, but now I wasn’t hungry…I was homesick. I miss mom already, and she hadn’t been gone a half hour.
I laid on the bunk and covered my face with my inmate jacket. In my thoughts I started feeling worse, for no real reason except that I miss my mom. I then started to feel disappointed that I let her down. She drove all this way, when she didn’t have to. It was my fault. I let her down, I…
“Yo, kid”
“What.” I answered, knowing it was Joe.
“You get to see your mom?”
“Yeah.” I said, still under the jacket…close to crying.
“Good. She’s gonna be fine now.”
“How can you say that?” I said as I removed my jacket and looked at him.
“Cause, she got to see you.”
“And that means she’s going to be perfect and never worry about me again?”
“No, I didn’t say that. I said she’s gonna be fine.”
“What’s the difference?” I asked.
“The difference kid,” started Joe as he sat on his bunk and opened a bag of snacks he got from canteen and tossed me a Butterfinger, “is that she found comfort”.
“I don’t understand.”
“Your mom came all this way to do two things. Get comfort and to give comfort. She needed to know that you were ok, and she had to see it for herself. No letter or phonecall can really give that. But she also came to give you some strength, because you needed it. She came to let you know that she will be fine if YOU are ok”
“Well, I guess she got that. She was stronger than me in the visit.”
“It was not about who was stronger kid, it was about being there for each other.”
I looked at the Butterfinger, not really hungry, but now desiring a snack before dinner. But what Joe said made sense, and in that there was a returning comfort, one I needed before I went too far on that path of depression. I smiled a bit and looked to Joe.
“I guess you’re right. Thanks.”
“No problem kid, we gotta help each other while we are here.”
“You sure you’re not some undercover cop or something? You just don’t look like a guy that should be here.” I said, as I opened the candy bar and took a bite.
“Look who’s talking? You look like you just graduated from college.” said Joe.
“Well, I did.”
“Hell, anybody could see that. It proves that anyone can end up in prison. Prison is not just a bunch of jackasses who don’t respect society. Some guys made mistakes, some are in bad positions. But sometimes the only real help we are going to get is from each other.”
“Yeah…I see.”
“So, did the visit go ok with you and your mom?” Joe asked.
“Yeah…actually, it was perfect.” I said, with the same smile I gave to mom.
Happy Mother’s Day mom.
Thank you so much for that story. My son had to turn his self in today for 2 years of a 15 year sentence. Standing there telling him bye was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. He messed up and I know he has to pay for it but he has really turned his life around in the year snice he commited his crime and it just hurts to know that he has to do this now. On top of it being my 1st mothers day without him, my own mother died a couple of months ago so it will also be my 1st mother's day without her. I was just sitting here reading though some of this when I saw your story. It really helped me out and I wanted to tell who ever wrote this, thanks.
Thank you and good luck.
Thanks. I wrote this a couple of years ago, along with a few other short stories, to try to add a creative edge to what prison was like. Most times I blog about my experiences, but sometimes I will write a quick short story to kinda paint a picture of what some inmates might go through. As I say in all my writings, I cannot and do not speak for every inmate, because we all do our time differently, but the fact that we are all human does mean that we have some things in common. I truly hope it helps you to understand your son a little more, and that you will continue to be strong and encourage him, and yourself, as you go through these difficult times. As one that has been through it as an inmate, I know it isn't easy, but not impossible. My very best wishes to you, and every mother during this time.