A Lot of Bread

　　When I was first incarcerated in 1987, the hardest part of doing prison time was being away from my children. This is common with most of the women in prison, so often stories of our children are shared among each other.

　　Renee, a friend I had met in prison, was doing seven years for drug charges. She had a five-year-old son that her parents were raising. She and the grandparents had told the five-year-old that Renee was away at school in order to protect him from the fear and humiliation of his mother being incarcerated. Renee would call her son often and promise him that it wouldn't be long before they'd be reunited again.

　　One evening, after talking to her son, Renee came to me with tears in her eyes. Her son had asked if she would be home soon. Renee made the regular promise that it wouldn't be too much longer now. The boy asked, "Can we go to the duck pond when you get home?" She assured him that they would.