Black Balloons

Shortly after I turned 11, my dad published this article. I've just re-read it, it's not exactly what I remember reading probably most recently 15 years ago (the internet is amazing.) But I thought of that article today. I had a different kind of day with some parallels. Today is my kindness son, Johan's, 4th birthday. It's also the day my client was sentenced to ten years in prison.

Johan is a remarkable kid. Cute as a button, but also funny and thoughtful and with a stellar mind of his own. And he has his whole life ahead of him. A life I think and hope will be long and filled with loud adventures and quiet nights, with near boundless possibility and great people he already knows and all those he's going to get to meet. His mom and his dad and his village have done a great job.

My client has been in and out of prison for most of his adult life. And now he's going back and when he gets out, he'll be in his early 60s. It's what we were expecting, but it's also a long time. A long time for something that isn't that serious and when no one was hurt. But it is also a product of the system "working," more or less. That is how it works. This is a 50 year old man who has been addicted to drugs his entire adult life started treatment for the first at the jail in September... unfortunately about a year too late. This is now most of a life, wasted sitting in prison. This person turned 4 at one point, with his whole life ahead of him. This is how it works. And thinking about it very much is terribly, terribly depressing.

But it is all not as grim as the article-- no one is dead. But the contrast of today makes me sad.