The flight to Miami only took about three hours but during that span of time, being the friendly 12 year old that I was, had managed to meet most of the passengers seated nearby. I was so eager to see my mother, whom I hadn’t seen in nearly a year that I could not help but unbuckle my seat belt early as we taxied around the runway in search of our specified gate. The old woman who sat next to me smiled gently as she had heard all about my forthcoming visit to see my mother. Finally, we came to a halt.

I walked with a glowing confidence as I exited the plane and gripped onto my oversized luggage. I kept at a steady pace with the cattle of other passengers while we made our way down the long corridor that ended at the baggage claim gate. As I walked I heard a faint commotion far in the distance which was sounding more and more like muffled yelling. As the group of passengers and I got closer, the sound started to become eerily familiar. It was definitely a woman’s voice and she was obviously involved in some sort of confrontation but I couldn’t put my finger on the reason all this rang so close to home. The other passengers could now hear the commotion as well, as we all searched amongst ourselves to find some sort of answer behind it. One man looked over at me while I shook my head and smiled sympathetically as if I was saying to him, “It’s a shame there are such troubled people in the world.” The moment we shared, as two sane people, came to a life shuddering halt as I quickly realized why I knew that sound oh too well. “Dear God no,” I thought to myself. “I mean it couldn’t be,” I tried to reason. “I mean could that really be her?” I questioned one last time. The yelling was now starting to form audible words, which were mostly comprised of vulgarity and racial slurs. “It was her,” I managed to think as my steady confident march slowed to an embarrassing walk that left me looking lost. My eyes darted up to the ceiling to focus on the elaborate paintings of pelicans and seagulls which, by the way, still haunt my dreams. The noise was gaining a face now.

My mother was being pinned against a golden brown brick wall by a heavy black woman. The woman wore a tight fitting security uniform and beads of sweat were forming at her brow. She wasn’t a necessarily happy woman to say the least and she was taking out years of frustration on the small frame of my mother. Oh, but mom wasn’t one to go without a fight. For some reason my mother was trying to get past the gate to meet my plane but wasn’t allowed to pass without a boarding ticket. My mother didn’t need “a fucking boarding ticket to see her own goddamned son” and she was determined to let everyone know that. “That’s my son,!” she let out in a horrifying gasp as her eyes locked in on me from underneath the sleeper hold that Shandra the security guard had had her in. “That’s my son, that’s my SON,” I can still hear it in my soul.

I remained calm and tried to blend in with the other travelers, innocent to this incredible sight. I focused on the sliding doors just past my mother who was now spitting at the guards due to the fact that her thumbs were restrained behind her. At that point I wasn’t thinking of the lack of transportation from the airport because I would have willingly walked home on my hands if I could have just made it a few more feet to the doors without being seen by her again. My adrenaline was pumping hard now as I walked side by side with the old woman from the plane who was now babbling on about maybe being able to meet my mom when she came to pick me up. “Oh if you only knew lady,” I said under my breath. “Freedom was only seconds away now”, I thought. But not quite. “There he is. That’s my son!” she hollered and waived as she met my eyes. Hundreds of pairs of eyes shot over to me in an instant. “Oh God,” it’s happened. The man I had shared a moment with earlier now looked down on me with a sort of sad disappointment as I was shunned from the group. “Don’t give me that look, I was once like you,” I pleaded to the group. The sudden break in commotion left my mother with a window of time to escape as she freed her head from under the woman’s forearm. Running towards me with her arms flailing insanely in the air I remained still and accepted the ill humored fate that I was given. I was her son.