She had her own family. It was a nice life. She had a loving husband all to herself and together they made two sons.

But prison changes all of that.

As Red sat alone in her room holding a cup of almost warm tea, she stared blankly at the wall, her cold, deep green eyes painting a picture on the white bricked wall in front of her, which turned into a fantasy she only sometimes dared to enter.

It was nice to have sons. It was nice to have a family. But with all the arrests and convictions and troubles with the Russian mob, it was hard for the four of them to be together. Her husband was hiding out in the old neighborhood while her sons lived their own life and seldom came to visit.

When in prison, you must make the best of what you have. The same thing goes for life in general. These were the types of morals she always tried to instill in some of the girls at Litchfield, especially the ones she considered her daughters.

The corners of her lips shifted upwards into what she considered a smile to be, as she began thinking of her girls. She had no idea she would have formed such an entertaining family in prison.

Trisha, Gina, and Nicky. Three girls she had truly learned to love. Sometimes late at night, when no one would hear her and no one was there to witness, Red would think about her girls and how badly they needed a mother, and her nose would sniffle no more than two times to hold back the hot tears that tried endlessly to spill over her tired eyes. She would lay very still, staring up at the ceiling, silently demanding the tears to stop.

Then right before she fell asleep, she would slip into her fantasy world, for no more than a few minutes. They were always in a big, green, open field; she had no idea if it was in New York, Russia, or even on Planet Earth. Maybe it was her version of Heaven. The sun was always shining, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. She sat underneath a big oak tree with a book and her reading glasses, keeping watch over her children.

Trisha was usually in the fields practicing cartwheels. After she perfected cartwheels, she would try somersaults. Then flips, and when it became apparent she was trying to improve stunts that she would never be able to complete without breaking her neck, Red would press her lips together and whistle, which caused Trisha to look at her with a sneaky grin. Red would shake her head in disapproval, and Trisha would reluctantly go back to safer stunts.

Gina never strayed too far from Red. She was near the pond, feeding bread to some ducks. Every so often she would look over to Red, as if making sure she was still there. Her lips would form into a very tight, yet gentle smile, and after seeing this Gina was soon comfortable enough to turn her back to feed the ducks again, until five or six minutes passed and she had to check on her mother again. Gina's real mother had been hit by a car in front of her when she was seven, and the traumatic events mixed with a deadbeat father that negatively influenced her her entire life had pushed her into a downward spiral of crime and theft. It was hard to believe she was a criminal, but it was very apparent that she was a young woman who never had the proper maternal guidance that every little girl should.

And then, Nicky. Red's little girl with big hair, big eyes, a big mouth, and an even bigger heart. She's a wonderful actress; with her tough-guy New Yorker voice and tough-guy witty comments, she did everything she could to build a stone barrier as a shield to anyone that would try to hurt her. If something upset her she would laugh it off with an insulting comment, but Red knew better. She had seen Nicky cry before. She had held Nicky in her arms while she sobbed. She claimed all she needed was "a sexy woman," but in Red's eyes, the only woman she needed was a mother. In her fantasy Nicky usually chose to sit silently in the grass, gazing up at the sky.

"Devochka moya," she would call out to her.

"I told you Ma, I have no idea what that means," Nicky would remind her. "Stop throwing that Russian shit down my throat."

In prison, Red would have to punish her for her disrespect. But in her fantasy world, she would just laugh. There were no prison rules-there was no such thing as being weak, especially for her because in the eyes of these three girls, she was a hero. She was, their mother.

"It means come, my little girl. All of you, come here."

The three of them stopped what they were doing and made their way over to the Russian woman who they worshipped. Trisha sat at her right side, with her head on her shoulder. Gina squatted at her left, seeking comfort with Red's arm around her back but still hovering over her so she was able to look out for her. And Nicky laid on her side, her head in Red's lap, looking up at her with her big brown eyes in admiration.

At this point in the fantasy, they would sit there in silence. They would quietly gaze at each other, thankful for the odd circumstances that brought them all together.

Together, they would watch the family of ducks swim away into the night. Together, they would tell jokes and stories and laugh. Together, they were a family.

Eventually the sun would set in the fantasy, and rise in the real world. The bright sun shining through the window and onto Red's face was an unpleasant reminder of the harsh reality they continued to live in.

As she sat up and rubbed her eyes, something in the corner of the room caught her eye. Sitting on the tainted metal desk were three dandelions that had clearly been pulled from the track outside. In front of it, a white piece of construction paper with the words "We love you, Matushka," written on it.

She read the words in silence, and just this once, she covered her mouth with her hand and blinked her eyes to let a single tear out. It dripped down her cheek and stopped when it hit her lips, which had been formed into an appreciative smile.

Despite the fact that the three of them individually fought for "tough girl" exteriors, despite the lack of computers, phones, and calendars, despite the fact that they never had a reason to celebrate this day… they remembered.

May 12, 2013.

Mother's day.