My name is Kelly and I was raised in East L.A. It was strife with drugs, crime, single parents, adolescent sex, and bad attitudes. We didn’t always live there, I spent the first 11 years of my life up in the hills, in a nice 5000 sq foot home, a private school, birthday parties with clowns and horses in the yard, and my Daddy. Then my mother got sick, and I don’t really know the whole deal still but it was a matter of months and we ended up in the hood. My life ripped out from under me, my Daddy gone, and no money for lights let alone birthday parties.

I of course blamed my mother – it had to be her fault – I spent the next two years watching her be wretchedly ill, look wretchedly ill which was an embarrassment to me when she attempted to come to my new school, and it kept me awake in the night sometimes with the noise she made.  The only thing she took from her marriage to my father was her wedding rings – and me. She hawked the rings three months after we left Dad, and I knew then that I wasn’t even going to have those when I grew up. My life as I knew it was over and I was left in this rat infested shitty house, going to a really crap school, and being carted around from doctors appointments to hospital waiting rooms to welfare lounges and section 8 people. Children’s services came to the house regularly and my mother always begged me to be normal and happy when they arrived, she feared they would take me away from her. After a year and a half of living in squalor I was starting to think that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

By the time I was almost 13 I hated my mother and did everything the opposite of what she asked. If she told me to be home by 7 pm I would come home at 7am. If she told me to go to school, I would take off to the mall. If she told me to cook dinner I would leave a bag of uncooked spaghetti noodles on a plate on the table for her lazy azz and go out before she came out of the washroom.

I started having unprotected sex, and smoking cigarettes and then weed. I was stealing anything and everything and eventually began selling drugs for the local kingpin. It was a nice set up – and I was making close to a $100 a day – more money then I had ever seen in my life. I made sure not to share it with my mother – if she wanted to live in the dark hungry and alone she was welcome to, I wasn’t about to rescue her. It was because of her that I had no Dad, no home, no private school, and none of the friends I used to have. It was because of her that I didn’t even have a television or a computer. Never mind cable and internet.

I started renting a room in this local dive, on a weekly basis, and barely went home anymore. She called the police and reported me missing which only served to anger me more. What was she missing? Her nurse, her cook, or her companion to sit there and watch her lose all her hair? I  no longer wanted to be any of those – and I didn’t think I should be missed.

One day I was walking along the street minding my own business – eating one of the best Enchilladas I ever sunk my teeth into and the feds were on me in a flash. I was arrested and taken to juvie lock up. My mother attended court and begged the judge to let me go home, he saw even more then she did, that I had nothing but attitude on my face. I believe he said to my mother “Mrs. Sparrow, I am going to rescue you from the hell this young lady is putting you through and deny bail. She is going to spend the next four weeks in boot camp and court will be recessed until then. Let’s see if she still has the same attitude when she comes back before me in a month”.  My mother cried, was white as ash, and left looking heart broken.

I, on the other hand, was a bad ass. No one was going to break me. Juvenile lock up was a joke and I was almost positive boot camp would be too. Nothing and no one there could hurt me – laws against putting your hands on a 14 year old. Off I went to territories unknown on a big blue bus – with a smirk on my face.

I didn’t even get off the bus totally when I knew I had a reason to be worried. The place looked scarey, the other kids even scarier, and the staff – were ruthless looking people who had no love on their faces at all. I knew that I was in trouble for the first time. But I played it off and put on a good show – a tough exterior – yes that would be the best defense. But that tough exterior got me hard labour and extra strenuous exercise for hours.

By the end of the first week I was begging to call home. Problem was – we didn’t have a phone at home so how was I going to call my mother? Omg the panic set in --- I couldn’t even call her. I spoke to my counselor and said I want to speak to my mother but we don’t have a phone – his response – “should have thought of that before you got sent here”, as he locked the door on my cell. I was alone.

By the end of week two – I got a call down to the visitor hall – who could possibly be here in the middle of nowhere to see me? MY MOTHER!!!! How did she get there, omg I couldn’t believe it. I cried and cried when I saw her. I hugged her and couldn’t let her go. She was really sick looking – sicker then normal – and she seemed old and tired for the first time. I could tell the stress of all my behaviour was wearing on her nerves and probably her health too, even though I had not directly made that connection yet.

She consoled me, she apologized for failing me, (yes she felt she failed me) and she told me it would be ok, I would be home soon. Then she apologized for what home was. Apparently she sold the kitchen table and chairs to buy a bus ticket to come and see me that day. And promised she would be back the following weekend even though I feebly told her not to come it was too difficult.

After she left I felt so guilty for what I was putting her through, and scared of what was going to happen to me at the same time. I really thought I wanted to go home for the first time in a long time, and the guards at the boot camp didn’t let up for one second. Respect was everything, you got nothing if you didn’t show respect to the staff, the other kids, and even to yourself. We were taught to chant while we were jogging, and walking, and working – usually things about respecting our caretakers (mothers, fathers, elder brothers/sisters, grandparents, foster parents etc) and being grateful for all that they sacrificed to keep us warm and fed. We were counseled to be grateful for free access to education, and to take advantage of it as it would be the stepping stone to a comfortable adulthood. We were warned against making bad choices, and making bad friends. By the time I went back before the judge – I was practically a model citizen again – in just 4 short weeks.

But he said that had just been for my attitude, now he will deal with my drug dealing behavior and he sentenced me to six months in juvenile lock up. I almost died on the spot, I actually thought after a month of boot camp he would let me go home. My mother had an IV when she attended court that day – and now later in life – I realize he was giving her peace of mind so she wouldn’t have to worry about chasing a bad kid around every day of her illness. At least she would know where I was for sure every night.

My mother took a two hour bus ride every Saturday to see me in juvenile detention. I called my father collect (the only way to call) but his new girlfriend wouldn’t accept the charges. I called my Grandmother on my fathers side, in an attempt to leave him a message, and she told me she would not have anyone calling her home from prison, to never call back again. I was so hurt. Still my sick mother came every Saturday rain or shine, sick or not so sick, to see me for a 30 minute visit.

Two weeks before I was to be released my mother never came that Saturday. Instead my counselor from boot camp showed up – who proved in the end to be a pretty caring decent guy. He told me my mother had been admitted to the hospital with a high fever some three days before and he was working on getting clearance to take me to her that Saturday afternoon – in his direct custody.

And he did – he put me in handcuffs and took me to my mothers bedside in the hospital. She was so surprised I thought she would fall out of the bed. She couldn’t stop crying and apologizing for causing a problem. The doctor pulled me and my captor aside and gave me a very serious talk. He said my mother was far too stressed and if I wanted her to live past my 15^th birthday I needed to do all I could to help her be stress free, and rest as much as she could. He was going to personally make sure that the insurance company paid a nurse to go to the house every day after my mother went home to take her vitals and change her IV etc. All I had to do was be of good behavior and make sure she slept and ate something each day.

I felt like such a loser – I couldn’t even speak. All that time I wasted blaming her for being a crap mother and making me lose my father – and it was slowly killing her. I was killing my own mother with my snotty little bad attitude. That day I promised her, and God, if she got better enough to go home I would be an exceptional daughter – better then I had ever been and better then she could think of  All she said to me was “you already are – I love you”. Which made me feel even worse.

I was released two weeks later and went home and started cleaning the house from top to bottom. Then I went to the Pastor at our church and managed to get some decent groceries put in the fridge for my mothers health more then anything else. I went back to the principle at school and begged him to let me come back to school. He did, and he even promised me that if I stayed out of trouble he would do all he could to help me when I needed it.

Now,  7 years later, my mother is doing much better – her cancer is in remission and she is working a decent job. We moved her out of the hood, and the principal helped me get a scholarship to a local university – and I graduated last month. My boot camp counselor showed up at my college graduation to my surprise – and brought his wife with him.

All these people – who were for all intensive purposes strangers to me – assisted in raising me and helping me to become the best me I could be. In doing so, I believe they helped to save my mother’s life. I have so many to thank for this. Without people who are so giving of themselves and their time, kids like me would never have a chance to turn things around.

 We are going to be just fine Mom and I.