Promise

Handmade, Hannah Whitaker

Today while standing in line at the post office–something I seem to be doing a lot of these days–I overheard a conversation in the line ahead of me. A woman and her teen-age son were trying to mail a large box marked "dress outs" to a prison. I am assuming the abbreviation stood for "outfits", but I can't be sure. The woman–and again I am assuming this woman was the younger boy's mother–was explaining to the postal worker that the last box they had send had been returned. And that this time, she wanted to make sure her package arrived to its intended destination. The postal worker had to call her boss who then had to call another postal branch in order to determine exactly what-sized packages could be accepted by the prison. Apparently, the box was too big. They were instructed to buy a smaller box and roll the clothes inside, "military-style" so they could all fit.

I guess it was a mundane enough interaction. But I couldn't help wondering how the person to whom the box was addressed was related to the two standing at the counter. Daughter? Husband? Pen Pal? For some reason, maybe because it said dress, I kept imagining it was a woman. A woman in need of some outfits. It reminded me of a story a friend of mine once told me. He was working on an art project with a group of juvenile sex offenders. When engaging with them about their ideas for any projects, it became clear, that the daily hygienic products we all take for granted, were here, in prison, imbued with special significance. Shampoo, lotion, nail clippers were all highly prized objects...up there with cigarettes and other illegal items. The only time they ever had a moment to themselves was in the shower and the only thing they had any control over, was how they cleaned their bodies. That ritual–and the indulgence in that ritual–carried a significance beyond what any of us not in jail could imagine. Perhaps a reminder of existence. Of importance. Of visibility. What perfumed soaps and enriching lotions can promise, is that our body still remains.

I don't know. A moment to oneself. A moment with oneself. A moment alone. A moment of being valued and cared for, even if only by oneself, is a moment much needed. No matter where we are. And what we've done.