Emily had been sentenced when her son was only a few months old.
She told herself she would be home before he could remember any of it.
But the months became years.
Every visit felt shorter than the last.
Her sister Rachel brought the baby whenever she could.
Emily watched him learn to sit.
Then crawl.
Then walk.
All from the other side of the glass.
That day, the baby reached toward her again.
Emily placed her hand against his.
I am sorry.
Rachel stood behind him, holding back tears.
Emily looked at her sister.
Does he know who I am?
Rachel nodded.
I show him your picture every night.
Emily closed her eyes.
Thank you.
Then the baby made a soft sound.
Mama.
Emily froze.
Rachel looked shocked.
Emily stared at her son.
Say it again.
The baby touched the glass.
Mama.
Emily started crying harder.
The guard quietly turned away.
For the first time since her sentence began, Emily felt something stronger than regret.
Hope.
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