The only word that is even close to describing what it is like to sit in a jail waiting room as you wait to see your child.
My child .... heroin addict, accused, incarcerated
only, he is not a child anymore
I scream silently in my head ... I beg God to let me wake up from this nightmare
it's not a dream
So, what now?
I go to him
I gather every bit of love I have ... that I have ever had for him
I reach way back to the beginning ... moments after he was born
It was a difficult labor ... I remember feeling somehow he was a tad more mine than his father's
My mind speeds through the years ... feedings in the wee hours of the morning singing, praying over him
that first day of school, baby blue shirt, bright red backpack... holding back tears as I let him grow up
emergency room trip .... holding his hand, wishing I could trade places with him
I take all of my mother love
and I try so hard to lavish it on him with my eyes
I want to hold him .... to gather him up and fly away
back to that first day in the hospital, or maybe the first day of school .... anytime really
anytime but now ... here
How did we get here???