Appreciation.
Standing in a group of guys, I feel like I don't belong, yet I am here. I know we are all doing something illegal, yet, I have justified this somehow. This is for some greater good, some purpose the law has not yet caught up to. At the top of the sky scraper we get the word.
"Cops!"Someone yelled, one our crew maybe.
I think to movies I've seen where a daring escape occurs. Where brawn from the police was no match for the wit of the "criminals." Is all I can do is stay with a broken-off smaller group as we run down the stairwell. I have no plan, I am just hoping they do.
"Freeze!" I hear it before I see it. I Finish my descent down the stairs the the flat on which a few of the guys are following orders. I meet a gun to my face. I know we are caught. I know that the illegal act I was involved in has caught up to me.
The next scene one of my crew members, for I cannot recall if they were a "friend" or not, is taken into an interrogation room. All while I am sitting in the kitchen in what I assume to be one of the apartments in the building. I am contemplating running, but have no where to go. Plus, I have no plan and that "wit" previously mentioned is not a strong point of mine. I simply sit and wait, thinking about what I "should have done."
I am brought out of the room next. I am taken to a van with some of the other guys. We are packed in like high-schoolers going to a track meet, only we are shackled. My thoughts put into words. A discussion regarding jail or prison entails. We all knew we were caught, we all knew the sentencing somehow. I was not familiar with prison, these guys were. I was not familiar with the "criminal life," they were. Most importantly, I was not familiar with leaving my family, they had already lost theirs.
"Alright, when you're in there, you need to hook-up with a larger gang, do what it takes because the protection is worth it." Explained to me by a former guard, who went rouge.
I listen to what he says, but do not yet invest in the words. I am too busy thinking about my daughter. I am thinking about my 2-year-old who will not get daddy in her life.
The next scene I am talking to my wife, and she is surprisingly supportive and understanding. She knew the cause was just, she was on board, and she said she was going to stay with me. This response rings flat. I know what time does to emotions, they dwindle like a candle flame. At one point we burn bright with desire, over time, and in my case, absence, she will move on.
My daughter was the one I talk to her about, for I did not get to see her here. I can only talk about her. I can only express my fears that she will grow up without me, without a father, having to visit the prison for 40 years just to have me involved in her life.Is this all possible? Sure. Is it the life I want for her? No. My deep sadness is reinforced by the 40 year sentence I am facing. Some of the inmates share their "prison math" by reminding me that with good time, I could get out of here in 15. This sounds a lot better, but my daughter will be almost done with high school and I still would have missed it all.
Will she remember me? Will we still make some sort of memories together, not tainted by the bars of these walls. If my wife and her come by will she remember the advice, or will the turn scornful too due to my attitude in prison to survive insidiously affecting all aspects of me? I am stuck with this feeling. This dread. This self-remorse for what I did affected the family. My actions have affected the life my daughter will have. I do not care how "noble" the cause, I messed up and did not put them ahead of my own selfish cause and now I am paying the price. My sadness grows deeper and deeper inside...
I turn over and hit the alarm. I am relieved to find out that that world, those consequences, and most of all, the possibility of losing my daughter, my wife, all gone. Not real, for it was all a dream.
My appreciation for my bed grows deep. My appreciation for this house, my life, my job, my meager earnings, all much more appreciated than before I went to sleep.
I recall the dread in the dream, for it is fresh in my head now. I am still affected by the busy, chaotic dream. I am reminded that it is not real and feel good about that. I feel good about everything because even a Tuesday morning here is awesome, and now, more appreciated.
For the next few hours I deeply appreciate everything, including my overly-long commute. I get to drive, I get to hear music, I have a job to go to. My Tuesday morning was turned from mundane to bright, sunny, and all good, but first I had to have it all taken away to appreciate. A reminder of how I take for granted how good I have it. Though the dream felt like I was running all night, it was necessary for this moment.
"Cops!"Someone yelled, one our crew maybe.
I think to movies I've seen where a daring escape occurs. Where brawn from the police was no match for the wit of the "criminals." Is all I can do is stay with a broken-off smaller group as we run down the stairwell. I have no plan, I am just hoping they do.
"Freeze!" I hear it before I see it. I Finish my descent down the stairs the the flat on which a few of the guys are following orders. I meet a gun to my face. I know we are caught. I know that the illegal act I was involved in has caught up to me.
The next scene one of my crew members, for I cannot recall if they were a "friend" or not, is taken into an interrogation room. All while I am sitting in the kitchen in what I assume to be one of the apartments in the building. I am contemplating running, but have no where to go. Plus, I have no plan and that "wit" previously mentioned is not a strong point of mine. I simply sit and wait, thinking about what I "should have done."
I am brought out of the room next. I am taken to a van with some of the other guys. We are packed in like high-schoolers going to a track meet, only we are shackled. My thoughts put into words. A discussion regarding jail or prison entails. We all knew we were caught, we all knew the sentencing somehow. I was not familiar with prison, these guys were. I was not familiar with the "criminal life," they were. Most importantly, I was not familiar with leaving my family, they had already lost theirs.
I knew I shouldn't have been involved in this, though the cause still rang noble.
"Alright, when you're in there, you need to hook-up with a larger gang, do what it takes because the protection is worth it." Explained to me by a former guard, who went rouge.
I listen to what he says, but do not yet invest in the words. I am too busy thinking about my daughter. I am thinking about my 2-year-old who will not get daddy in her life.
The next scene I am talking to my wife, and she is surprisingly supportive and understanding. She knew the cause was just, she was on board, and she said she was going to stay with me. This response rings flat. I know what time does to emotions, they dwindle like a candle flame. At one point we burn bright with desire, over time, and in my case, absence, she will move on.
My daughter was the one I talk to her about, for I did not get to see her here. I can only talk about her. I can only express my fears that she will grow up without me, without a father, having to visit the prison for 40 years just to have me involved in her life.Is this all possible? Sure. Is it the life I want for her? No. My deep sadness is reinforced by the 40 year sentence I am facing. Some of the inmates share their "prison math" by reminding me that with good time, I could get out of here in 15. This sounds a lot better, but my daughter will be almost done with high school and I still would have missed it all.
Will she remember me? Will we still make some sort of memories together, not tainted by the bars of these walls. If my wife and her come by will she remember the advice, or will the turn scornful too due to my attitude in prison to survive insidiously affecting all aspects of me? I am stuck with this feeling. This dread. This self-remorse for what I did affected the family. My actions have affected the life my daughter will have. I do not care how "noble" the cause, I messed up and did not put them ahead of my own selfish cause and now I am paying the price. My sadness grows deeper and deeper inside...
(Beep) (Beep) (Beep)
I turn over and hit the alarm. I am relieved to find out that that world, those consequences, and most of all, the possibility of losing my daughter, my wife, all gone. Not real, for it was all a dream.
My appreciation for my bed grows deep. My appreciation for this house, my life, my job, my meager earnings, all much more appreciated than before I went to sleep.
I recall the dread in the dream, for it is fresh in my head now. I am still affected by the busy, chaotic dream. I am reminded that it is not real and feel good about that. I feel good about everything because even a Tuesday morning here is awesome, and now, more appreciated.
For the next few hours I deeply appreciate everything, including my overly-long commute. I get to drive, I get to hear music, I have a job to go to. My Tuesday morning was turned from mundane to bright, sunny, and all good, but first I had to have it all taken away to appreciate. A reminder of how I take for granted how good I have it. Though the dream felt like I was running all night, it was necessary for this moment.
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