Guilty Pride

Motherhood is nothing if not thought provoking.

I often share parenting experiences with my mom - we laugh, commiserate, and compare notes. Sometimes I apologize for the less than stellar moments in my teenage, hormonally-impared, bitchy years. Sometimes I can do nothing but listen as she relays to me the latest news from my brother, the incarcerated one.

Recently, in Southern Alberta, there was a court case involving what the Crown prosecutor called "the most disturbing case of child abuse he had seen in his 25 years as a lawyer". The convicted scum bag was sentenced to a mere 6 years for his heinous destruction of a young life. Coincidentally, this scab on the face of humanity was placed in the same facility which houses my brother. 

There is, as the saying goes, honour among thieves. Apparently this applies to drug traffickers as well. As heartbroken as I was to accept the fact that my brother made a living by peddling noxious chemicals, I could always find solace in the fact that he wasn't one of "those" monsters who prey upon the precious and innocent children of the world. 

I am somewhat guilt-ridden as I confess how my chest puffed out as I heard the latest news from beyond the bars of my brother's temporary home. It seems that he, and likely several of his law-breaking brethren, took it upon themselves to send a message to the filthy excuse for a human who was recently placed among them. My brother was involved in some type of "altercation" with the monster, which resulted in his being brought before a review board. 

All I know of the outcome is that whatever choices my brother made were not considered serious enough to warrant disciplinary action. He will continue to serve out his sentence without further penalty. And I will continue to be proud of the fact that, in spite of his shitty career choices, my brother is a good man.