The night, at least the start of it, was warm. She didn’t know what to wear. She ended up wearing black. Others wanted to take the long ride with her. “No, he’s my oldest, I’ll get him by myself”

So the elderly mother drove through the night. Thought many thoughts as she stared straight ahead. Of him as a boy, as a man. What it must have been like for the past 30 years for him in prison. She thought, should I have brought others? No, no other sept the woman that bore him… and she drove.

Outside the prison she waited… he finally came out, head down. He got into the car, stared straight ahead… she at his profile. He aged and was not the same. She put it in drive and off they went.

At home, free, the son never ventured far. Mostly, just tilling the garden by their large country house. She would stare at him through the window, watching, weeping. Wondering what he had endured for 30 years caged… what, God only knows.

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Well readers, what you just read is from the long ago fiction novel, The Thornbirds. Great book that was made into a mini-series. When I came upon this part it stuck with me. I am coming up on 30 years shortly here. Caged for almost half my life. The man released here killed a man in a bar fight. Least the writer knew that to spend 30 years in prison someone must be killed.

I on the other hand killed no-one, no violence what so ever. I just wouldn’t “rat”, and for that I am expected to die here. I won’t, don’t, and will never give up hope that someday, someone, will take the long lonely drive to retrieve me from this living hell.

This entry was posted on Saturday, February 13th, 2010 at 11:40 pm and is filed under George Martorano. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.