37 and a half to life

Tonight is my husband's last night of captivity. In less than 12 hours he will be a free man, at least physically. His spirit and his mind have never been imprisoned.  I have no words for the way I feel right now. This is too big to describe!  Last Sunday I visited my husband for what I hope will be the last time. As I sat in the visiting room, I was flooded with memories; how I imagine one's life flashes before we die. I saw myself as a young woman, nervously waiting, butterflies in my stomach. I thought about the countless ordeals and hurdles just to see my loved one. I experienced the sweat, that even when it's freezing outside, manages to invade my temples. Only someone who has lived this prison-from-the-outside experience can relate.  While I sat in the visiting room I noticed the young families, the parents visiting their adult children, the in-love couples, and I thought about the advice I would give someone who is new to this life:  *Keep your cool- many peop...

It's the final countdown. ..  I sing to myself in a 1980s rock 'n roll superstar voice. Someone asked me the other day, "So your husband will be home soon, how do you feel?" Hmmm, I guess I can compare the feelings I have to those I felt when one of my babies was soon to be born. My nesting instincts have kicked in, his going-home clothes are ready, and I am taking in every moment because once he's here, my life will never be the same. I anticipate an enormous learning curve for the entire family, though the details escape me.   Life, as I know it, will change drastically in less than one month. My kids, who have never seen their father as a free man, may not recognize him without his state greens, the prison uniform he donned for nearly three decades. Will they believe their eyes when they finally see him at the front door? Every disappointment, every failed attempt to free him, will only be a memory. All those times we fantasized about him 'surprising' u...

 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 ...

October 21st marked 28 years since he's been gone, but not really gone. I recently found out that there's a term for what I've been feeling all of these years. Ambiguous Loss. I have been doing a lot of research lately, in an effort to make lemonade out of the many lemons I have been accumulating, I am pursuing a Doctorate degree. The reason? To learn as much as possible about the effects of parental incarceration on their children and how to help (as an educator).   God-willing, my husband will be home to see me graduate. And yes, he'll have to call me doctor! I have a lot of passion for learning and even more for educating others. My hope is to continue my journey and help de-stigmatize the prison experience in schools. How, exactly? That's the part of my story that I'll have to create. I am suddenly in a place where I have to think ahead, to look into a possible future. Something that is difficult for me. I'm more comfortable living in the moment, no more...

 With all of the insanity that continues to overcome our nation, no... our planet, today I choose to write about me. I know, it may sound selfish but I needed to escape for just a few minutes and tell a short story about a promise I broke.  It was July 10, 2020, aka, my birthday. Daughter #1 wanted to do something special for me. She decided to treat me to a salon visit, begging me to get a cute, shorter style. "Cut my hair?," I said, "but I made a promise that I wouldn't cut it until your dad got home! " She insisted and I agreed to "just a trim."  Salon visit day came, my daughter asked, "Ma, so what haircut are you gonna get?" I responded, "A trim, remember?" She didn't like my answer, she wanted a whole different me coming home that day. I understood, what daughter doesn't want to beautify her mother?  I put on my mask, walked into the salon and was greeted by the owner, who would be my stylist (salons were open at very ...

What a difference a day makes!  On Monday, the day after I was desperately awaiting to hear about my husband, I called the correctional facility. I asked to speak with his counselor, when I told her why I was calling, she transferred me to another counselor because "her computer wasn't up" (whatever that means). The second counselor told me that they don't deal with HIPAA forms. She transferred me to the medical admin. The woman who answered the phone didn't seem to understand why I was calling. She announced that she couldn't tell me anything, I felt like I was in the "Groundhog Day" movie and began to explain all over again. The woman finally said, your husband can sign the HIPAA form when he gets back from the hospital. I shook my head and took a deep breath before saying, "I just want to know if he's OK, now! and by the way, no one ever called me to tell me he was taken to the hospital." To which she responded, "so, how did you...

Today I feel helpless. I know, I should be used to this; being married to a man who is incarcerated, who doesn't have a say over many of his own actions and decisions, frustrating as it is, you never do.  This is a new level and the worry is overwhelming. You see, I haven't spoken with my husband in three days, not unusual, but what makes this different is, the last time I spoke with him he was very sick. He was coughing, had shortness of breath and hadn't been able to sleep due to feeling so unwell. I had been urging him to put in for a sick call for days and he kept telling me no. "I'll just work out and be fine!" but I told him that we're in the middle of a pandemic, please get seen. Even my sister, who is a medical professional, gave him marching orders to get medical attention, he declined. Finally, last night (Saturday), I called the facility to see if they would tell me if he was OK. Perhaps he was in the infirmary or had been quarantined. I also ne...

Drawing by our 10 y/o son March 14, 2020 was be the last time I would see my husband under 'normal' circumstances on a visit. Pre-COVID 19 might become the way some of us refer to life as we knew it prior to that date. Since my husband arrived at this current medium security facility in December 2018, I have visited him regularly. Every facility has a different procedure for visitors to follow even before getting in. In Attica, if we visited during the weekend, we would have to wait by our car to be picked up by a van, taken to the hospitality center where we would wait for our turn to be driven back to the main building and THEN be processed for the visit.  This particular facility has a different way. Upon arrival, the first place to go is the hospitality center, fill out a visit pass (which has a number on it). Then if you drove, you go back to your car and wait for your number to show in the window. At that time you walk to the building, get processed and (hopefully) visit....

Everyone is feeling it right now. COVID 19 has taken over our lives and no one has been spared. This pandemic has catapulted the entire world into strange times. This invisible enemy, as many have called it, doesn't discriminate and is among us, making some deathly ill and barely affecting others' health. It may be inside me at this very moment and I don't even know it. That's what makes it so scary, so nerve-wrecking. So all we have to do is stay home. Those of us who don't have to take care of the sick or work at a grocery store or provide any other essential service... we help by staying home. I am working from my laptop; attending and running meetings online. All of the attendees sit in their own square, reminiscent of the Brady Bunch opening , it's kind of comical. I also get to facilitate the home or distance learning that my kids are engaged in. All of them (2nd, 5th, 12th and Sophomore in college) work on their devices and attend classes in the s...

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...

Almost a year since my husband has been closer. An hour drive to see him is still nothing compared to the 5 and a half from before. This last year has been full of getting back to our 'normal'; regular visits, daily phone calls (that are longer than 15 minutes!), bringing packages, etc. With more interaction, though, also came more conflict. More interruptions in my day (that sometimes weren't taken kindly), more being in the 'know' at the home-front (more about that another time :) But also more conversations about how to get over those conflicts because, soon, we'll be under one roof (God willing!). It feels good to have him near, almost like he's here! And now, with the help of technology and of course money, we have found a way to get closer. So, a couple of months ago my husband called and announced that he had finally gotten the long awaited and highly anticipated "TABLET!" It was the cutest thing ever, hearing him talk about the feature...

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 ...

Last night my eldest daughter called me, and with excitement, announced that she had run into a friend who, in her words, was "well connected." She sounded like her eight year old self whenever she learned something that really peaked her interest and filled her with curiosity- she couldn't stop talking! "Mami, this guy has dinner with Judges and Federal Prosecutors, he says he can help us, that all it takes is money and Papi can be home... he can come home, like tomorrow!!!" I listened to the high pitched sounds of my daughter's hopeful speech but I could not bring myself to share her sentiment. She sounded amazed to find out that all it takes is money, "you're preaching to the choir," was my thought, but I let her continue. She talked about privilege and that, for once, we may have a connection with someone who has it and can use it to help us. OK, so she has a point... but is it too late? My first thought is, I have no money. I have ex...

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...

Today I want to share a cautionary tale. One that I am still dealing with, unrelated to my husband's incarceration... or is it? Well, it depends on whether you subscribe to the idea of gender roles and chores. There is where my latest 'adventure' began. I was feeling overwhelmed with work, kids' busy schedules, house chores, etc. Everyday, as I got into my car, I noticed how high my grass was getting and I prayed for no rain so the growth would slow down... to no avail. One Sunday afternoon, as I washed dishes (mentally preparing for the inevitable cutting of the grass) my doorbell rang. I opened the door and a man was standing there, accompanied by a 13 (or so) year old boy. They said they were going around asking neighbors if they wanted their grass cut (I felt like my prayers had just been answered), so before I knew it, we had settled on a price and the man and his son were cutting my grass. I went back to my dishes and the next thing I knew, they were done. ...

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 ...

I know, I'm about to say the most cliche thing ever... gray is not just a color but a feeling. There, I said it! Now I'm going to explain why I've decided to be Captain Obvious and talk about something that artists have long been capturing in paintings, poems and songs... the feeling of GRAY. Dannemora has been 'home' to my husband for the past 14 months. It is infamous for the ' great escape ' that took place a couple of years ago. This place sits in the middle of nowhere, near the Canadian border close to Montreal. The nearest town is Plattsburg, which has a college and is populated with younger people and features hotels, stores (WalMart AND Target), restaurants, and even a small shopping Mall. Dannemora itself features Clinton Correctional Facility, which also houses CorCraft . There are houses, a Dunkin Donuts within the general store, a gas station, a post office, and... that's it! This past Thursday I set out to visit my husband. I last saw ...

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...