Thesis Project-65 days

Every step toward writing memoir is vital.  Even if this includes no added writing to the manuscript.  I went back and revised some facts I had written, tweaked some off sentences and added some new found insights.  Although my edits included minor added text, I was able to get one valuable asset,  an interview.  My mother came by to visit me last night and while I was, at first, hesitant about talking to her regarding my working manuscript, I casually sat down with her at my dinning room table and simply said "I've been meaning to ask you a few questions.  It's research for my book."  She was open and willing to comply.  She seemed nervous but a good sport nevertheless.  I told her how I knew that bringing up past occurrences was not going to be the easiest thing for her.  I then reminded her with "just look at it as helping your daughter out" and she was just fine with that.  My series of questions pertained to her time spent in jail back in 1988.  She was an accessory to a drug dealer (the man she lived with and to whom she mothered a child) and subsequently was placed in jail for four months for "conspiring to conceal information to drug trafficking."

Vanessa: "What went through your mind as you sat in jail?"

Mom: "I was in shock.  I wasn't able to sleep, I didn't wanna eat and all I could think of was you and your sister. I was depressed."

Vanessa: "What did you wear?"

Mom: "Hmm...let's see (she paused for a moment) It was a white jumpsuit with short sleeves.  It was stamped with "Dallas County Jail" in black letters on the back of it.  I had one panty and one bra that I hand washed everyday."

Vanessa:  "What was your cell like?"

Mom: "It was small.  We had bunk beds.  I shared it with a large black woman that was named 'Big Mama', she was so nice to me.  My only friend in there.  She looked out for me"

Vanessa:  "What was 'Big Mama' in for?"

Mom:  "Writing bad checks."

Vanessa: "What did you do while there?  Did you read?"

Mom:  "I would just sit and think.  I would cry all day and night.  It's all I was able to do.  All I wanted was to get out and go back home to you and your sister.  I had screwed your life up enough."

My mom cried as she shared her stories with me.  I simply sat, quietly, observing her.  I could see the regret and pain in her eyes.  The far off look that inhabited her soul and the agony of being an unfulfilled person.  I was deeply sad for her.  As I sat with my pen and notepad, I explained to her why I needed this information.  I shared my struggle with separating the 'little me' with the 'now me' and how difficult it was to come to this resolution within myself.  Tears streamed down her cheeks and I gave her a compassionate smile.  I thanked her for the interview.  She was glad to have helped me.  Later she said "Nani, if you need anything else that I can help you with, just ask."  I followed with "Thank you, Mom.  I will."  There was no anger built in my heart while she sat there sharing her story.  There was no pain associated with the loss I had experienced.  There was simply compassion for my mother, myself and our lives.

Later that night as I sat in bed nursing my baby girl, I thought about how terrible it must have been to feel so helpless, so lost, so broken.  My mother was my same current age when she served 4 months in jail, 32.  I could never imagine the plight of briefly losing my children and at that, losing myself.  While I continue to peruse the pages of my childhood and the secrets of lost time, so will I arrive at the deep love and understanding of a woman who wishes that she could turn the hands of time.  Until then...

So long for now and just keep writing...

V.