I’m still working out a lot of lingering judgments. I grew up around people that would talk shit for sport and being the competitive person that I am, naturally, I wanted to be the best in the game. My eyes became trained to scan a person and look for weak spots, anything “off”. Anything to keep me from having to look inwards and tend to my own weak spots.
As I spend time identifying and removing my remaining judgments, I tend to find them by being proven wrong. It’s like I carry these silent expectations around, a surprise even to myself, and only notice them when I catch myself thinking someone is “different than I expected”. If they are different, what made me expect it if not judgment?
The Light
There’s a little bit of guilt floating around inside as I think about missing our visit on Saturday. You told me you were sad but never rubbed it in my face, yet I could feel the disappointment. I asked myself if I’m testing limits after finding out that you hate when people don’t follow through with what they say they’re going to do – a gentle reminder that the only limits I should be testing are my own.
A little bit of nervousness builds as I wait for you, wondering how you’re going to be. You’re never anything but happy to see me but I still worry. I don’t know where it comes from but I keep expecting you to snap on me. You’re patient, though, calm. Maybe I shouldn’t have smoked so much. Or maybe I’m just tired. I’m definitely being unreasonable. The screen flickers once, twice, three times and you’re there.
Big smile. “Hey, mama! What’s up, how you been!? I’ve missed you!” I can’t help but smile anytime I hear the street in your voice. It’s familiar, comforting, but I can’t place why.
“Hey! It’s good to see you! Did you get my message?” I’m trying to determine just how much I’m going to have to explain.
Your answer is cut off by your awareness of the bright white light shining above your head. The metal grate that’s making up the backdrop stops just below the light, allowing it to beeline straight for the camera, blinding whoever is on the other end – blinding me. “Damn, I hate being over on this side”, muffled words come out as you pull your prison-issued navy blue sweatshirt over your head.
I watch intently as you fold the sweatshirt and place it atop the metal grate, slowly sliding it in hopes of finding the perfect spot to block the light. For just a second you had the position just write and then it cascaded over the back of the grate. Now, without you and without the sweatshirt to block my view I can see other inmates in the background. A large figure passes the grate, stopping to grab the sweatshirt and I watch him fold it.
It was somewhere in the area of two minutes and ten seconds that I shifted back and forth on the ground, wearing a smile, watching the two of you perfectly arrange the sweatshirt. I love teamwork. It’s so cool to see people accomplishing tasks together. You look so soft right now. I wonder if those other guys back there have families that love them as much as you do. At 18 cents per minute, some might see that as a waste but as creepy as it sounds, I love watching.
When you’re seated in front of me again, light blocked, I see you a little clearer. The whitest shirt I’ve seen in a long time. A bead bracelet and necklace, matching, the kind you would make in elementary school – or prison. Smiling, always smiling when I see you. I can’t help but wonder if maybe life is really just this simple. Creating things, connecting with people, working together, and always remembering to smile. I wonder if the guys in the background have people that love them as much as I love you.
It comes to me, awareness. I’m washed with appreciation for you as I realize that my expectation for you to snap on me is rooted in the judgment that you, in prison, must be harsher than the version I see. My guilt is floating around again as I realize that my expectations have been holding you to your past when there is nothing but future ahead of you and nothing but presence in those smiles.
Much love, until next time.
Madeline May I... 