37 and a half to life

 This past Christmas break I spent my downtime putting puzzles together. My 20-year-old daughter Tweeted, "why did my mom get me a puzzle for Christmas and she just did the whole thing herself??? I have to laugh." So I was a little obsessed with finishing the Frida Kahlo puzzle, it was so pretty! As soon as I finished it, I took a picture of it and took it apart, announcing to my daughter that all the pieces were there (insert cheesy smile).  Later the same day, my sister's children came over to visit. I asked my eldest niece if she'd like to work on a puzzle with me. She said yes and I quickly grabbed one none of us had ever put together before. It was The Polar Express! We immediately started strategizing and sorting pieces but we didn't get too far. The next morning I got to work on the puzzle, convinced that I'd be done by the end of the day... HA! To my surprise, this innocent-looking puzzle actually took over the rest of my days off, and then some. Just ...

The dictionary defines 'false hopes' as confident feelings about something that might not be true. I can bet that nearly everyone has experienced false hopes at some point of their life. As I reflect on the last 26 years, there have been many moments of hope that later turned out to be false. From the moment my husband was arrested, knowing that everything would be OK and he would be released. But he hasn't come home, yet. In 2005, the Rockefeller  Reform gave hope to a lot of inmates. Many became eligible for re-sentencing under the new guidelines. Some were fortunate enough to go home. My husband held out hope that this would be instrumental in his return. He drafted out his own motion, a lawyer was hired to represent him and when his time came, he received a time cut. From having 25- life he now was to serve 20 years flat on the drug conviction. When he was re-sentenced, the judge made no mention of his consecutive sentences. So, for the next 4 years or so, we hop...

Have you ever taken your kids to the playground only to have THAT kid show up? The one that always makes some other kid cry within five minutes of his arrival? The one that made you cringe when you found out he was in your daughter's first grade class? The one teachers pray he'll stay home... just ONCE!? We have all met THAT kid. Some of us have been THAT kid. Well... I'm his mom! Some call him spirited, others energetic, active, full of life... he needs to burn energy, yes. It started when he was 6 months old; he let out a shriek unlike anything I had ever heard before. As he got older, he was perceived to be 'aggressive' towards his peers. As an observer, I think he had a hard time with spatial awareness... he was clumsy and impatient so he would push his way through (the playground, a line, etc.). I was so hurt and embarrassed to hear other parents complain about THAT kid, that I started taking him to the playground when I knew it would be empty or close ...

Long Point State Park at Dusk, 2017 For many people, summer is a time for relaxation, family vacations, to regroup and recharge. As a teacher, I can count on one hand the times I have worked during the summer- though I should (my wallet can attest to that!). Living in Western NY, I ought to look forward to the summer and, in some ways, I do. Not having to wake up early or to get the kids out of the house by a certain time is nice. The weather is incredible and saying goodbye to wearing socks and layers of clothes is heaven. Another perk of the good weather is that my husband gets to call more often. Since the phones at the prison are located outside in the "yard," he's able to call without worrying about the elements. The little things... In other ways I don't look forward to summer. I get anxious because my routine is disrupted and I feel like I'm doing nothing. I stop earning a salary so I feel like I'm not being a good parent or a good wife. I am full...

It feels like forever since I've had time to write. I have been busy beyond belief, busy in a good way, busy nonetheless. I have been fortunate enough to be working on Saturdays at my school. We have been providing workshops for the entire family including recreational activities such as swimming. It has been such a rewarding experience for me because I have gotten to know many of the students and their families and have build a deeper connection with them. I also get to bring my own kids (the little ones), who absolutely love it. My son gets to play basketball with other kids and my daughter is practically swimming on her own. A couple of weeks ago, for Mother's Day, we held a workshop called "Mindfulness for Mom." My awesome LINKS partner and School Social Worker lead the workshop with a group of moms and caretakers. They got to talk about self care and then they made scented sugar scrubs. The ladies walked away happy, some commenting that 'this is what I n...

Me, 1989 In my early to mid teens I loved Clinton. No, not the President, he wasn't President quite yet... not his wife and first woman to come so close to the Presidency (she was robbed!!!), nor the prison that holds my heart at this very moment. No, I was in love with La Clinton... pronounced 'lah cleen-tong' if you're Hispanic! The Avenue, where excitement lived, colors were bright and everything seemed like so much fun. It didn't have the greatest reputation and I was technically not allowed there, so that made it even more attractive to me. It seemed like everyone who was 'cool' was from La Clinton. It should come as no surprise that my husband lived on a street off of Clinton. He and some other neighborhood guys would DJ parties, performed at various events, created art; evolving into local celebrities. And he was my friend, mine. So I got to hang out with them!  Street Art, 1993 When I learned how to drive, cruising was the thing to ...

The following poem was written by my husband. I sent him a copy of the post I wrote by the same name. he was inspired to write this poem. He told me that when I wrote ' Gray ' I captured how he felt, too. He even had some of his friends read it and they were moved because they identified with gray. I feel grateful to have been able to use a painful moment to inspire beauty.                                          Gray                                              by KMT Is it possible to escape the feelings of a place where the feelings of the place is captured on the face? And all in this place pray for the great escape from the gray.  That sits in the middle of nowhere,  near the border of hate and despair.  The nearest town is don't care,...

Last night I heard from my eldest daughter that she experienced trauma from growing up with an incarcerated father. That she doesn't like going to see him because it is painful for her. I had never heard this before. Ever. It made me feel sad. And like a bad mother. Did I make a mistake in exposing my child to prison life?  I began to think about the experiences we had, the two of us. First, I thought about the fact that I was 20 years old when this journey began. My daughter was 9 months old. We were suddenly abandoned, left to navigate life on our own (without Daddy). As time passed and my daughter got older, prison became her playground. She had the biggest personality in the room, always. When we would visit my husband, almost every inmate would say hello to her. She would manage to end up with candy, chips, and other treats that were given to her as she visited and greeted people around the visiting room. Back then, the rules were not as strict as they are today. My daught...

It has been almost two months since I’ve heard my husband’s voice on the phone. In the last letter he wrote, he told me that he would get his privileges back on March 11th (which happens to be my parents’ wedding anniversary), making it almost three months with no phone calls. I should be used to not hearing from him, but I'm not. The truth is that the last two months have been pretty unbearable. I have been feeling sad and disconnected, depressed even. When my phone rings, it never sounds like it does when he calls; his special ringtone has been silent. I keep expecting to get interrupted by an inconvenient phone call, one that I would cherish and appreciate. I want to talk to my best friend. I want to tell him how work is going. That things are changing so quickly I can hardly keep up. I want to share news about our five year old and how she's starting to read on her own, that she misses her daddy and wants to hear his voice. I have to tell him about our daughter who gradua...

In 1988, Bobby McFerrin sang to the world,  "Don't Worry, Be Happy!"  Suddenly, my mom (Mami) had a theme song. She has always been the quintessential optimist and this song was a perfect match for her attitude. I was 15 years old and all the happy- ness  was a little too much. Mami would sing the song whenever one of us kids would get whiny or would encounter difficulty or drama (teenagers are quite familiar with it). Even though I am fairly laid back, I can get very stressed out about some things. Example; I was about to start working and I hadn't secured a babysitter. My reaction was to go into panic mode and then, here comes Mami with her mantra, "don't worry, be happy!" What she means is that things will work out- while I was busy freaking out, she had been making phone calls and just as she predicted, everything was OK. This type of situation has repeated itself many times during my life and Mami's advice is always to trust and not worry. S...

I can't wait til Friday. I can't wait 'til summer. I can't wait for school to start. I can't wait for vacation... it seems like we spend our lives waiting for something. When I was pregnant I would count the days until my next doctor's appointment because I'd get to hear my baby's heartbeat and it also meant that I was closer to meeting him or her. Once that baby was born I couldn't wait to lose the baby weight (which never seemed to want to leave me) and get to wear 'normal' clothes again. I couldn't wait to hear the baby say ma-ma and take those first steps. And so on and so forth. I hardly got to reflect on what just took place because I was already thinking about what was to come. Writing down my experiences has forced me to look back and to think about what has occurred and to process what is happening in my life as I am waiting. The waiting for me is the background of my life. As I am moving forward or standing still, no matter ...

I can hear Mariah Carey singing "All I want for Christmas is youuuuuuu, baby!" For the last month or so this song has hijacked the airwaves everywhere I've gone. Every radio station played it and every Christmas playlist featured it at least once! Resistance was futile, so this year, this song took over my brain... I couldn't escape it. I hummed, danced and sang along to it as I wrapped presents, washed dishes and even while taking a shower (usually my quiet time). The song grows on you!  And then... I want a hippopotamus for Christmas. All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth. I want, I want, I want... I guess that's the part about the season that I don't love- that's the Grinch in me, I guess! I think there is so much need in the world and we talk about what we want. I know, 'tis the season for joy and happiness and giving, but I feel so bad for those who cannot be with their families, and they NEED them. I can't help but to think ab...

Last night, my husband called and we had a lively conversation. He was in good spirits as we discussed the kids, current events, future plans, etc. It was a normal conversation and then he announced that he had to go. We said our goodbyes and right before hanging up, he said, " I'm proud of you !" Then he was gone. I sat there, phone in hand, thinking to my self, "how in the world, does someone like that exist in such a negative environment?" Actually, negative is putting it mildly. What I really believe it to be is TOXIC. He's proud of me. I should be telling him that I am proud of him !  For staying alive, sane, healthy. It should be the first thing I say to him every time we speak, but instead, he's saying it to me. Wow. He is in hell and yet he finds the way to, not only keep his own spirits up and stay positive, but to bring me encouragement. His actions speak volumes about his character. I have known him to share every last bit of a long awaited p...

When I began writing about my experience, my husband asked, "what about me?" "What about you?" I replied. He then admitted that he wanted to be "featured" on some of the posts. I told him I had shared some of his poems, but he wanted to write in a more direct way. It is very difficult for him to put his experiences into writing sometimes. How can you process something while it's still happening? Still, he wants others to know...  So a few days ago he put the following in the mail. He calls it "We Rise Above The Clouds of Deception" Meaning: We have learned to take our pain and turn it into the fuel we will need to move forward in securing a strong and positive foundation for our links to the future (children). This can only be accomplished by internalizing life lessons and blessings. They prepare us for upcoming trials and tribulations and give us a clear perception of the truth. So we see people and things for what they are and not for wha...

A couple of weekends ago, my youngest two children and I went to visit my husband. On that Saturday morning, I woke up at 3:30 am in hopes of having everything ready for our trip. I packed not one, but TWO pair of shoes for the diva, bathing suits for the pool at the hotel (kids need to have fun), meds, snacks, electronics, IDs, cash, etc. I got myself ready and, coffee in hand, headed out with the sleepy-eyed kids. We made the 5+ hour drive. Once we arrived, we sat in the hospitality center (a dingy, portable room, posing as a welcome center/waiting room). It was full of people waiting to see their loved ones. We were number 63 so we would be waiting for at least another hour to be let in. Thankfully, the kids were able to entertain themselves with my phone (they have lockers to secure personal items before entering the facility). When our number was finally called, I gathered our items; money for the machines, IDs, pictures to show my husband, then locked up my phone and car keys. ...

For the past decade or so I have been thinking about how I might turn this experience into action. There has always been something keeping me from being able to give more of myself to anything other than my family. Between sports and other extracurricular activities my evenings have been pretty busy. Throw in prison visits and other weekend commitments and that left me no time for anything else. Then, five years ago, our surprise baby made her debut. It was the middle of October of 2012 and she was the cutest little thing! Everyone loved her right away. And even though she was unexpected she was not unwanted, she completed our family. So, big brother (who was still only two years old himself) was thrilled with the addition and life was pretty good. Then, five weeks later, our world changed when he was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. It was the worst time of my life. Even worse than when my husband lost his freedom. This diagnosis sucked the joy out of me and I was suddenly drown...

It's been a couple of weeks or so since I last wrote. I've been doing a lot of thinking after having a brief but unsettling conversation with my father last week. First, I'll explain how we got to that point...  Following the destructive path of Hurricane Maria, my family moved forward with plans made long ago to celebrate my Titi's 75th birthday in Florida. The occasion took greater meaning when all 9 of my mother's siblings would attend. It had been decades since all 10 had been under the same roof... not to mention cousins and their kids (and in some cases, THEIR kids!) how could I miss that! Family came from PR, NY, NJ, CT... This event had turned into a bonafide Family Reunion!  I traveled by airplane with my 7 year old diabetic son and 5 year old first time flyer. I was nervous because I hadn't flown with my son since he had been diagnosed almost five years ago. I didn't know what to expect since we have to travel with so many supplies and medicine...

In recent years I have heard these words come out of my husband's mouth, "you, know I'm damaged, right?" he'll say. I know exactly what he means. He's not the same person he was 24 years ago and not always for the better. He is conscious of the toll prison has had on him both physically and emotionally. When we are on a visit, his eyes are often scanning the room. He is very aware of the environment, noticing things I never would have. If he senses that I'm getting annoyed, he'll apologize and explain that it's about survival. Then he wonders what life at home will be like. I have always said that we will need help, professional help. For many years he declared that nothing was wrong with him and therefore nothing needed fixing and he would not be participating in any head shrinking of any sort! I always stood by my opinion... we are going to need help. Since he has been 'noticing' that he is 'damaged' he has been open to talking ...

The last seventeen days have been heavy. That's the number of days I spent without knowing anything about my husband. Add one more and that's how long it has been since Hurricane Maria hit my birthplace, Puerto Rico. The sadness in my heart has been unbearable. Not knowing whether my family members were alright; having no way of communicating with my aunts, uncles, cousins on the island was unnerving. Then, not being able to share my feelings with my best friend and worrying about him as well... that was heavy! I had a headache that lasted precisely seventeen days. Today, I'm happy to report, I am headache free! My family has reported (little by little) and everyone is fine. Material items can be replaced, but more importantly, everybody is safe. Puerto Rico was battered by the hurricane. To this day, most of the island remains in the dark and many people have no running water. The conditions are scary. We, on the mainland, see the slow progress from afar. Facebook has be...