April 24, 2019. I’m in Cortez, Colorado. Really nice small town with an amazing view. Sweet old man bought me a mint chocolate and gave me a pat on the back. Endearing. Not a bad way to end the day.
So I’m living in my truck. Not like a big rig, but a pick up truck. Sounds worse than it is. These days though 23,24,25 of April really get me thinking. I really don’t believe in coincidence. I’m out on the road exploring the country, seeing the most beautiful places–all for the first time on these dates? That didn’t happen on accident. The living in my truck part really just makes me smile and think some more. Makes me think about how I ended up here, in the back seat of a truck, with my pup. Adventuring.
Three years. That’s the measuring point for convicted felons. Usually if you make it three years there’s a good chance you’re not going back. I’m one day away from my three year mark.
April 24, 2016. Houston, Texas. I’m in my cell. Still haven’t slept. I have one day and a wake up and I’m done with this shit show. I get called out for showers around 5 am. I shuffle on over to the showers with about 100 other guys. Exciting right? No.
It’s cold. They give us a shirt to dry off with. No towel. I get my new, fresh pair of dirty uniform and mosey on back to my cage. Chow comes. It’s nothing great. Pork noodle casserole. Pretty much everyone’s least favorite meal lol.
I’m not here though. The whole time while I’m walking I see the guys on the rec yard. In the chow hall. I see the guards. Their attitude. But I’m not here. They are. I’m somewhere else. I left this place a long time ago. Mentally. Now, finally, I was leaving physically.
As I look around though, I can’t help but think–“these guys will all be here when I’m gone, doing the same thing, living the same day. Over and over again.” I think of all the good people I met over the years. I think of all the years I’ve spent living this same life.
One more day…
Positive vibes for positive minds