This past weekend was absolutely beautiful! It was in the 70s and sunny, and the prison yards were full of people. Some prisoners were shooting basketballs and some were hacky sacking, but most were just walking or sitting around talking. It was just too nice to stay indoors.
On big yard, some prisoners were playing softball while others were running, playing horseshoes, or walking. Many others were sitting on picnic tables soaking up the sun, talking in groups.
On Saturday I exercised in the gym before spending some time outside in the sun. I had worked up a good sweat and was ready for a refreshingly cool shower. The problem is that in prison, one cannot adjust the water temperature in the shower. It is set by the prison maintenance team, so regardless of the outside temperature, the water temp is the same.
So, after working up a sweat, I came back to the housing unit and got in the shower...where the water was hot enough to keep me from cooling down at all. Still, it got me clean, so I'm thankful for that.
It's at times like these where I remember the small things I appreciate about what I had before prison. Sure, I think about the food I could choose to eat rather than the carb heavy, boring and mostly unhealthy prison food. I also think about being able to go wherever I want, get up and go to bed whenever I want, and pursue whatever passions I have for work and play.
But there are hundreds of little things we often forget until something happens to remind us. I can't wait to text instead of having to wait for a mailroom to release a message. I can't wait to sit in my own home where it's peaceful and quiet instead of listening to the constant and oppressive noise of the prison housing unit. I hope I never again hear the phrase, "You hear me?" Yes, I hear every single word you're saying because you're talking so freakin' loud!
I can't wait to sleep without earplugs in my ears, and to sleep on a bed that doesn't make my back hurt every day. I can't wait to wash my laundry in a washing machine instead of having to hand wash everything so that I have clean clothes. Our prison laundry makes our clothes dirtier, instead of returning them clean.
I could go on and on, but every little thing that I hate about prison is another reason to never come back. I don't need these reasons because the regret I have for causing the harm I did is enough. But prison life is not the kind of life I want, so these many daily frustrations are simply another reason to never come back.
And when I do leave prison, I hope I never lose the gratitude I'll feel the first time I get to set my own shower temperature again after a hot and sweaty day.