The End of Summer

I checked each day watching the tree behind my apartment as the apples fell from the tree. Then for almost three weeks one lone apple held on. I would check each morning and late afternoon before leaving for work, and it would still be there. I was so excited thinking it may stay connected all winter and give me hope that warmer weather would return. Then one afternoon it happened. I walked to the window. I searched everywhere and it was true, my ruby red apple was gone. It was emotional to think it wouldn't be there to greet me each day. I just stood there in silence. After it sunk in, I walked outside and there in the mulch was my apple of hope. I quickly picked it up to see if it was in perfect shape (as it appeared to me from the tree). As I inspected it closer, I could see the damage that had happened to the skin by the ants and bees. But it was still shiny and bright red. I placed it back on the ground and slowly walked away realizing all is not lost, in a few short months this tree will be covered with blooms with the promise of more fruit for me to watch, pick and enjoy.

My First Visit

Today was the day, my first prison visit. After my drive of an hour and twenty minutes, I turned into the New Castle Correctional Facility. I followed the signs and successfully found the building and parking lot. I locked my personal belongings into my car and walked slowly up the long sidewalk. It was silent as I walked. At the entrance door was a beautiful landscaped area and somewhat of a welcomed feeling. I entered the double doors and saw several people sitting, waiting and watching me. They seemed to look me over as I made my way to the front counter to enter my request to see my son. While I waited, a lady and her 7th grade son stood beside me waiting in her line to be checked in. Her paper work wasn't completed correctly and they had to tell her she couldn't make the visit today. She exploded with verbal expressions that were very tense. She tried to explain she had driven three hours but that didn't change the guard's mind. The young boy began yelling and saying horrible things and picked up the plastic bag of quarters that belonged to his mother and threw them at the guard, hitting her in the chest. He ran out yelling obscenities and threats to the guards. He pushed out the doors with such force they made an echoing noise in the room. He went for the landscape and pulled some of the flowers and threw them. Later he came in beating on the lockers and his mother attempted to calm him but with no success. They walked out the door, both of them exclaiming loudly of their anger. During the process, I was given the OK to see my son and I made my way for the chair in the corner. I sat as a nervous child watching it all take place. After the episode, the room was quiet for a short time and then an elderly lady spoke, "I'll bet he'll be back here someday". A small hush came over the room, but my heart was pounding and I was shaken. Then my name was called and I had to take off my shoes and belt. I was patted down and searched. I was asked to sit on a metal chair which scanned my being and then beeped. They checked my feet, my back and most of my body parts. I was stamped on the hand and given permission to enter the large, metal sliding door. I was contained for a few moments then asked to place my hands in the black light and then given the OK to enter. I waited what seemed a long time, and the door finally opened. There across the room, sat my son, Stewart. He had the biggest grin and the sweetest look on his face. I asked the guard if I could hug my son. She gave me permission. I moved as quickly as I could across this large visitation room and grabbed my son and we hugged for a very long time. Tears filled our eyes and I placed my hands on his checks and asked, "You OK?" He smiled that enormous smile as only Stewart can give and said, "Yes, Mom, I'm OK!" I sat near him and held his hand. We chatted only a couple of minutes and a guard came to me and explained I had to sit across from him and not beside him. I moved without hesitation but held on to his hand. It had been 12 weeks since I last saw my son. His color was good and he looked so sweet. They all dress in khaki pants and tan shirts which was a much better color on him than the local orange jail outfits. We chatted nearly an hour that seemed like minutes. We enjoyed a great cup of mint chocolate cappuccino together. We laughed and cried together and planned on the next time I could talk to him on the phone and my next visit. Then I was asked to leave. My time was up. The walk away from my son, was as painful as when I drove him to the jail in May of 2008. I walked into the room to have my hands checked again and I blew my son a kiss and smiled with tears running down my check and there sat my son, waving at me with a smile and a broken heart. I am counting the hours until I can visit again. I love you Stewart and I am so very proud of how you have grown up. We both have made some life altering mistakes, but we are both still good people. And for that my son, I will always love you. Forever and Always.... Mom :)