A Story in Fifty Minutes

What can possibly happen in 50 minutes that can change your life forever? [As Joplin, Missouri experienced yesterday, it could be just seconds that change your life ~ or take it. A blink of an eye and your world is never the same.] But this morning, it is 50 minutes that I focus on. I am having trouble finding little irony between a couple of events that have forever altered the way I think, breathe and live ~ both taking only 50 minutes to occur.

My youngest child, Willow, has been referred to as "the lunch hour baby". At the time she was born, my husband and myself worked for a tyrant. Though I was on maternity leave, hubby was not. He knew his job was in jeopardy if he took any time off upon the birth of our daughter. On top of that pressure, a good friend of ours, and my labor coach, was also employed by this maniac and quite under his spell of power. It was made clear to her that she would be granted no special privileges should the baby choose working hours to make its grand entrance. Forgive me, for I have digressed.

My doctor broke my water at exactly 12 o'clock noon with hubby at my side. Labor coach arrived 10 minutes later (our offices being only a couple of miles from the hospital). Willow was born at 12:50. Coach returned to the office with news of the birth by 1pm. She clocked in and out for lunch and just happened to hold my hand and utter "push" in the meantime. Her job was safe. My life was forever changed. Being a mom can kind of do that to a gal.

Fast forward 20 1/2 years to yesterday, as the side-stepping digression between these two moments in time is in and of itself a book in progress. With my father at my side, I registered for my first visit with Willow, who has spent the last 8 days in jail. I have never been in jail, inside a jail or even in a building that housed one. I am a newbie. As it turned out, I still haven't been in any of the above. Unbeknownst to me, the "visit" would be via monitor screen, with my daughter in a building a street apart from me. If it hadn't been for her county issued orange wardrobe and the obvious set of circumstances, it felt little different than when I Skyped with her while living in Italy.

My visit, as all visits are, lasted 50 minutes. It was, other than the day of her birth, the longest 50 minutes of my life. The digitally displayed countdown on the webcam monitor ticked off the seconds with sluggish deliberation. I wasn't sure if it was in slow motion or if it was the reality of my life, and hers, that crawled in front of me. Pain and agony. Sadness and despair. All were present and all were thick around me. I was lost in a surreal dreamlike trance I couldn't seem to escape.

It is also not lost on me that it took no more than 50 minutes for a situation to escalate itself to the point it did 8 days ago. Fifty minutes can change a life forever.

Make your next 50 minutes count for something good in the world. I know I will.

Hugs,

Karis