“So, the guy… that was the one you pulled a knife on later?” Mrs. Honeycutt asked.
“Huh?” Her voice jarred me from my thoughts and I shook my head a little to come to my senses.
She nodded. “The guy… the one that bumped into you. That was him? The one you got into a fight with?”
“Oh, uh… yeah,” I said, furrowing my eyebrows. “Turns out that was him.”
Mrs. Honeycutt frowned, but quickly recovered, “And so when did you actually get to talk to Kaitlyn?”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “The next day. We had class together. I could tell I made her nervous.” A wide smile crept up on my face, remembering her stammering and blushing.
“Good memory?” Mrs. Honeycutt asked, grinning ear to ear.
“Yep,” I said, pleasantly surprised by my sudden happy mood.
She nodded, glancing down at the floor. “It helps to think back on happy times.”
For a moment I wondered if she was directing that comment to me… or herself.
Group counseling was by far my favorite thing about Thursdays. The boys always grumbled about it, but by the end of the session they all felt a little more relaxed and restored.
“Would anyone like to share a childhood memory with us today?” I asked, glancing around.
The guys liked to talk about their life outside of juvie, so starting the session by sharing memories usually got them to open up a little more for the session.
Greg raised his hand. “I’ve got one, Mrs. H!” he blurted.
“Okay, Greg. Whatcha got for us today?” Leave it to Greg to be the first one to share.
Greg rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Alright, this one time…”
“At band camp,” DeAndre interrupted. The room erupted with laughter while I chuckled inwardly. DeAndre unmistakably held the title of Class Clown.
“Shut up, douchebag,” Greg barked.
“Now, now boys. Let Greg finish,” I chided nicely. The boys stifled their laughter and Greg continued.
“Anyway, like I was saying, this one time my dad took us to a theme park. It was the only time I’ve ever been to one in my life. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was ten. He talked me into riding the Howler, this huge roller coaster that flipped upside down twice and barrel-rolled three times.” Greg used hand gestures to emphasize the size and structure of the ride. “I don’t know how he talked me into getting on it, but he did. And I loved it! We rode it two more times after that until my little sister cried. She and my mom were waiting for us at the exit because she was too short to ride it with us. I guess she got tired of waiting. Anyway, my dad bought us cotton candy and funnel cakes that day. And we got to play all these arcade games. It was a great day!” Just then, Greg got quiet. A somber look crossed his face.
“What happened, Greg?” I prodded.
“I just remembered,” he grumbled. “It was the last weekend he spent with us before he took off and never came back… Maybe it isn’t such a great memory after all.” He slumped in his chair, his eyes glossing over as he stared at a spot on the floor.
I remembered the day my dad never came back, and my heart broke for Greg. “Thank you for sharing it with us, Greg. It’s always nice to remember the fun times we had in life, even despite the tough times.”
I don’t know what possessed me to say it, but I did. After all, this wasn’t my therapy session, but I’d found that sometimes sharing my own life experiences helped others cope with their own.
“My dad died when I was five,” I told the group. A few sets of eyes grew wide and several of the guys leaned in, listening. Others continued to slouch in their chairs as if they weren’t listening. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember him. I was so young. He traveled a lot for work. I remember the night my mom found out about the plane crash. I saw pictures of the wreckage on the news, but I didn’t quite understand. All I knew was that my daddy was gone, and he was never coming back.”
Tears threatened to form, but I willed them away. “One time, when I was in third grade, my teacher held a parent night. All the parents gathered in the classroom while students were asked to share their favorite memories. My mom came and sat down at my desk. I was so happy. I’d worked for weeks on my speech. I was nervous to stand up in front of all those parents and speak, but I was excited to share my most favorite memory of me and my daddy with the class. I told them about the time my dad took me to Italy with him when I was five… how we walked to the top of the Leaning Tower of Pisa… how we sat on the sidewalk eating ‘gelato,’ that’s what my dad said Italians called ice cream.” I smiled, remembering how excited I was to try it.