Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Braiding With Mom

Sitting in a prison cell gives room for honest thought. It shuts all the noise down and all your left with is you and the screaming voice from within.

I yell at myself by the hours at times. I go through stages where I hate myself than I can tolerate myself again for a time. That is, until I think about what I did, who I did it to. When I have to talk about it, that's when life gets tough again. I have my own set of perpetrators to contend with. I hate the fact that I belong in somebody's "set of perpetrators."

In fact, the only thing that brings back to a level playing field again is that through all the noise, I finally heard me. The real me screamed loud and long enough that I couldn't help but notice. When I finally did, life got much less...noisy. 

Now, much of my time is spent concentrating on what was good. 

Ah, and you thought the blog title was off key...

When I was a boy in Nebraska, one of my favorite things was to braid my Mothers hair. I always wanted to learn how to put on makeup but new it would raise to many questions. So I settled for hair braiding. It just felt right. Like those were the moments we bonded. Those were the times I felt normal. I felt most like me.

She would go off to work, no doubt rebranding her hair before she got there, and I would think about it all day. I couldn't wait for her to get home to check on her hair. Silly, but thats what it was. 

Wish I would have nurtured that kid...

With Love
Jeff Utnage

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