by Xavierre Allen
Most of us in prison have looked back on our lives. Some with regret, some with sadness, some with anger. In looking back on your own life, have you ever come across one point in time, one thing or another, one action you did, or turn you made, even one fleeting second where you realize, ‘that was it’? That is where everything changed, nothing was ever the same after that. You had an epiphany where you come to the realization that the decision you made at that moment changed the path you were on for better; or most times, for worse. Happiness or ruin, everything good or bad, came down to that one incident.
There was a time in my life when the money flowed like a crisp mountain spring. A spring that fed a creek, that fed a river, that led to the horizon, and beyond. A mighty river that showed no sign of slowing down. The expensive toys that I accumulated turned my garage into a giant toy box full of forgotten and unused toys. Left only to become a status symbol, a veneer of a personality that continued to expand with even bigger and more expensive toys. RVs the size of a Peterbilt, several hydraulic low riders, a 1932 Roadster; my adult-sized go-cart, and a gold chain the size of an anchor holding down a party boat. Surrounded by people of renown, I sipped on Louis the 13th Cognac, or Jefferson’s Presidential Bourbon.
There were other mandates to the maintenance of my lifestyle. The emotional adjusting to unconquerable, the disregard for life while seeking financial gain, and the assumed duty of being the person responsible to provide, and being a drug dealer produced financial stability in support of these emotional accolades.
Then one day I became a father. I wasn’t changed by this. In my arrogance, I was not worried at all. How hard could it be to do? I knew that I could fill up a room with baby formula and diapers. What else do babies need? Still, for a moment, just a fleeting breath, I pondered…was this a blessing, or a curse? Looking back, did I even realize or know the difference? No. I continued to attend to my reckless behavior.
I passed out money as if I was a patron of a strip club looking to impress and persuade the emotions of those in need and control the ones I felt needed to be “subdued”, exhibiting what I thought was the coolness of a villain.
Then quite suddenly, something my arrogance had hidden from me, a possibility never encountered upon. Everything I held in such high esteem, and the lifestyle that went with it, came to a crashing halt. I lost everything I held dear to an irresponsible, consent-violating act of ignorance.
My life as I had known it was over, replaced by a new life. A different sort of living, but with similar attributes and priorities. Prison; had I exchanged one illusion for another? I had exchanged a lead and starring role in a neighborhood scene, for a walk-on role in a cage behind an electric barbed-wire fence. This part was unacceptable.
I needed to be the star again, not some bit-part. I took control of this new illusion.
There was still money, drugs, cellphones, fair weather friends and associates. Things that boasted of my previous life outside beyond the walls, fences and gun towers. But there was something missing in this land of towers and fences. Something left behind and forgotten. Yes, there was something missing, but what could it be; certain qualities of freedom to be sure, as well different levels of intimacy of course. So I recalibrated a new process of attending to the executive of my personality.
Just as all the other things that I had held so dear in my previous life, these new things behind these walls were just as fleeting, just as temporary, just as worthless. Still, I had the illusion of control over them, and the people around me, through these worthless items of imagined value. The stupidity of this vision was lost on the necessity to hold up the lies in order to make up for all that I really lacked in life, and in society.
It was December 14th, 2010 when a Correctional Officer stopped at my cell door and handed me a letter. It was a letter from Xavierre Allen Jr., my son.
From under that blanked of despair, an emotional wave of excitement rushed over me. It was like a breath of fresh air to my soul, and from the black and white grayness of my life, color returned to my vision. My son, the only real, unimagined, permanent forever thing in my life had grown up and written me a letter. With shaking hands, I opened, and began to read this gift from beyond the walls.
My vision began to blur, and suddenly I had to remember to breathe, and through tears I read just after the greeting my son wrote – “dad, if you loved me so much, why didn’t you stop what you were doing when I was born?” I fell back and collapsed on the bed awed and confused. There it was…I had hit the bottom, brought there by a lifetime of regret, and the love of a little boy, and his confusion of his vision of his father.
It was a good question. Why had the birth of my son not changed me forever? Was my son not important? Was he important now? Did I miss him? Did I even know him? Why could I not even remember his face? What a fool I had been.