Saturday’s Visit
Morning
Today
Finally here
Anxious
Stomach
Knots
“She coming?”
“Yep. Can’t wait.
Bringing my son, too.
He’s five now.
Haven’t seen him since he was one.”
Shower and shave
Iron clothes
Polish shoes
Like wet glass
Trim hair
Ten o’clock
Waiting, waiting, waiting
Wife
Four-hour trip
Wonder if she looks the same?
Pacing
Eleven o’clock
Nervous
Feel sick
Names called
Others leave
One by one
Twelve o’clock
Can’t eat
Alone
Worried
Read her letter
Again
Right day
Traffic?
Car trouble?
More pacing
Some returning
Happy
Wonderful visits
Kids and hugs
One o’clock
“Sure she’s coming?”
“She’ll be here.”
Try sitting
Leg jumping
Wringing hands.
Two o’clock
One more hour
Look out window
Sun is gone
Dark, boiling clouds
A raindrop
Then more
Lonely
Sad
Hurt
Three o’clock
Everyone back now
Laughter
Sharing family photos
“Maybe something came up.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Take off clothes
Fold them neatly
Shoes under bunk
Thunder shakes the cell
A tear hits the concrete
“Yeah, maybe something came up.
Just like last time.”
– Visiting day is an important day in the life of a prisoner. In some cases it’s the difference between sanity and falling over the edge. Sometimes that thin border of mental stability draws nearer when, on Saturday, their names are not called.
For those who are so consumed by the process of justice — seeking out the perpetrators of crimes and helping to ensure that just punishment is meted out — it can become so easy to see the perpetrator in simply black and white; he/she committed the crime and is thus bad. When society, including society’s law enforcement, fails to recognize or acknowledge the humanity that remains despite a criminal’s actions, the world becomes an exponentially colder place. Thank you for reminding us of this.