I am confined to my cell 23 hours a day! Other than being marched, under ground through a maze of tunnels, over to the mess hall 3x per day, I sit in this tiny cell and stare at the walls & out the tiny window. No books (only my Bible is allowed) no paper, nothing. The only paper I have is the pages inside my Bible. At night, during the one of Rec time, I am given a tiny pencil, with just a trace of a lead point. This is when I do my writing ... quickly. Through the window I look out at tree tops in the distance, along side a mountain here in Duchess County. A slew of Canadian Geese constantly are strolling by, I look down at them, jealous of their freedom. What I wouldn't give for my feet to be touching that grass right now. I sit and daydream about happier days, the world was my oyster, and I fucking blew it. I try to convince myself that life is not over for me; yes this is a major hurdle, when I will eventually climb over.
I think of my ex wife and son Brooks who are up in Vermont right now, doing a college tour, and here I am, sitting in this depressing cell. Some father, aren't I. This special moment in his young life is one I will never get back, gone to me forever. How many more moments will I miss out on before I return, whenever the hell that might be.
It's a beautiful sunny day, one of those summer days you never want to end, if you have your freedom that is. Since I don't, I can't wait until the darkness comes and I can shut it down. I'm quickly learning a prison mantra the other veteran inmates have stressed ... just look at the end of each day "as another day down." That's all it is. "You do the time, don't let the time do you," I hear so many of them say. Most seem to live by that creed.
I'm looking forward to next Sunday when my parents will be coming to visit, as well as my brother Jack. Looking at Mom & Dad you would never guess their ages to be 85 & 81; they appear and act so much younger. I can't stand the thought of them seeing their son in a place like this, but they insist on coming. Jack has been my rock throughout this ordeal, I've leaned on him hard. Currently he lives in Honduras, back in the States now for summer break.
Earlier today, those of us who wanted to, were able to attend Catholic Services, which began at 8:30. I must say I found it to be not only peaceful and spiritual, but reinforced a sense of hope, a temporary sense of normalcy. For the 1st time since coming to prison, I felt calm. Well, all those wonderful feelings came to a crashing halt as the other inmates and I were led back to our cells. Thanks to one brutal corrections officer who went on profanity laced tirade towards me and the other guys. "You mother fuckers don't deserve forgiveness, you're all a bunch of hypocrites. I bet you like to touch 11 year old girls, don't you." Oh man did I want to lash back at this angry and miserable person. It was just so ugly and hurtful, made especially so given where we had just come from. And the fact that I had, for the 1st time since being sentenced, achieved a feeling of hope and calm. But you know what, there was absolutely nothing any of us could do about it, we had to stand there and take it. Sure, you want to be a hero and say something to this piece of shit, go ahead, next thing you know you'll be in the box! And lose what ever small privileges you do have. I got back to my cell and felt horrible all over again.
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