A mum's agony

It was the night before ex-Criminal daughter had to go do her 3 month stint at the "lock-in" reformatory where I took her this morning. She came into our room looking for Hubby's cellphone to call her boyfriend. Hubby didn't know who was in the room and woke up startled and began screaming -

"DON'T TAKE MY PHONE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY POCKETS!!!?? I'VE GOT MONEY IN THERE!!"

I woke up thinking is this man totally fucked? You know you have kids that love to take loose change or even a bill or two and throw it into their own pockets. Why tell them EXACTLY where you are hiding your dough?

The next morning - money intact - with her bags already packed, I had the social worker pick us up. It seemed like the drive took longer than it did. It was a bit over an hour but seemed like 3 hours. It was a bit difficult to get to, with 3 or 4 turn offs from the main highway and it was near the coastal city of Ashdod. The place had high gates, but no barbed wire and I could imagine my daughter trying to scale the gate trying to break loose and hitch a ride from the main road not too far from the place, but I figured she'd have second thoughts as an armed guard and more high gates surrounded the "enclosed" complex. For the 3 months she has to be there, 5 weeks are in the "enclosed" area and the remainder in the more open premises. The girls - well - looked like her - with attitude, but they eyed her curiously. Some were sympathetic. "Tell her not to cry, it's not so bad." "We all cry at first."

I remember our last outing we had on Friday. She was at the lingerie store thumbing through the racks with a lit cigarette which I tried to pry away from her lest she burn down the undies or the store. Maybe we could start a new style of underwear with cigarette burns on them, but I think not right now. She yelled at me that I'm crazy for trying to take away her ciggie and I thought Man does she need this place.

But when we got there, she seemed so helpless and small and fragile - not the ring leader for troublemakers. She cried when she spoke about her boyfriend and when they told her she wouldn't be able to call or see him for 5 weeks. We walked around the joint which looked like a cross between a Kibbutz and a jail with flowers and nice graffiti to liven up the place. I likened it to a dog kennel where you send your beloved pet for 3 months and know he'll be safe and be fed, but don't know exactly how the staff will treat your loved one and don't know how he'll get along with the others.

I noticed how the girls rooms were neat, simple and immaculate. I pictured her being the only one with her stuff strewn all over the joint. But there'll be none of that there. I imagine it's hard work for anyone to deal with these distressed teens and to get them to do anything. I was starting to become impressed with this place. I don't know what they can do with her in three months. But I do hope it's all for the best.