The song is playing in my head. “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.”
Well I woke up dreaming of a white Christmas, but I woke up in this reality of life in a jail cell block. We don’t have windows in here. I have no idea what it looks like outside. In fact, I haven’t seen the outside world in four months now. The meaning of life is confusing in here.
My landscape looks like barred doors, brick walls, and 22 men in blaze orange clothing walking aimlessly around the cell block every day.
In fact, even though it’s Christmas, the men are more angry today than normal.
A massive Native American man started the day out by screaming, “Merry F****** Christmas Everybody,” at 6 AM. I guess there’s jerks and humbugs every where. I didn’t submit myself to his personal problems this morning though. Instead, I continued to focus on the things I want to explore, and accomplish with my life.
I called home to my parents house around noon to say Merry Christmas to the rest of my family. I was a little nervous before I called, as I am sure the rest of my family were in a warm house, enjoying the love that family creates. I felt a little awkward calling them from my jail cell, because I know I should be out there with them. Instead, I am stuck in here because of some of the horrible selfish decisions that are keeping me in here.
It was a difficult phone call to make. Before I called, I actually had to hype myself up by pacing a few times like an animal does at the zoo. I walked back and forth, planning what I would say, and how I could survive the emotional tsunami the phone call would create in me. But after doing it, I realize I really didn’t have anything to worry about. My family still loves me. They were happy to hear from me. But the feelings of embarrassment and shame I felt for being in jail still hurt.
My parents first handed the phone to my wonderful grandma. I’ve developed such a close relationship with her since I’ve been incarcerated through letter writing. She sounded great, and was sincerely happy to hear my voice. (She would pass away before I got home.)
She then handed the phone to my grandfather who sounded relaxed, and talked loosely about having a “good time.” (He would suffer from dementia and wouldn’t remember me when I got home.)
My Uncles and Aunts were also very nice to speak to. I got a sense that they would stand behind me no matter what happens to me. I am excited to send more letters to all of them.
My family is awesome, and I was thrilled to speak to them, and that they were still thrilled to hear from me.
For being in jail, it was the best Christmas it could be. I am looking forward to this emotional day being over, and for me to move on into tomorrow.