A Visit~repost

by adustyframe ~ July 30th, 2008

I wrote this the first summer Lee was gone. He was in the county jail which is the worst place to be. Prison is better in many ways. Especially visiting! Jail visits with glass between us were horrible.

This is one of those things I’m glad I wrote at the time. The emotions and thoughts are more authentic than they would be if I wrote about this now. Which is why I started this blog–so I don’t forget.

We sit in silence. All women. Eyes down, breathing quietly.

Some of us are very young. Pretty girls dressed straight from the style magazines. Sitting impatiently–manicured nails fidgeting.

Some of us are not dressed so fine. We are the ones with wedding rings on our fingers. You can see it in our eyes–the tiredness, the stress, the slight feeling of hysteria clawing at our insides threatening to turn loose any moment.

We too do not talk much–a word here or there. A thin smile that tries to say “I’m really not usually looking like this. I’m just so tired.”

We look away from each other now so we don’t have to talk.

We turn to shush a baby or tell a child to just wait a minute.

The children–the babies–that’s what makes the hysteria claw a little deeper. It’s so sad watching them play–laughing, entertaining themselves. Big innocent eyes–running back to Mommy for a hug.
“Shh… just another minute. Be a good boy.”

A sigh, a deep breath to calm our nerves. A glance at the clock.

There is a lot of waiting for us. The clock moves slowly. The children play and laugh and smile. The hysteria and tears and will to be calm all fight within.

The elevator opens finally and we step in–silence again.

If we were to talk we’d say “We really are nice people.” “He is so important to us.” “Everything will be okay.” But we ride in silence.

We reach our destination and file into a line. We must declare who we are. Then we wait some more.

The door clicks, and we enter. Eyes dart back and forth–searching for our familiar face.

There he is. My Love, My Prince, My Dreams.

Relieved to see each other again, we blow kisses and touch our hands to the glass. The tears fall unbidden. The lump in the throat grows–the heart breaks some more.

He looks tired in orange. We strain to hear each other but it is so loud.

Time passes quickly and we must part.

Hands on the glass again, we smile. Thin tired smiles at each other. “It will be okay we say.”

The hysteria begins to claw again. The line forms and once again the waiting. This time it is waiting to leave our loved one. I look back and we smile once more…a deep breath… one foot in front of the other.. we enter the elevator in silence.

We are tired. This is hard work, and we are tired.


4 Thoughts Shared to A Visit~repost

  1. Chel

    This is heartbreaking. How long ago was this? I’m so glad you’re past this point and get to see Lee more often.

    This was probably written in 2005.

  2. Marie

    Ugh….so sad. You can feel and almost smell the atmosphere of desperation. I’ve been in prisons and lockup a few times, and felt relief when I could leave, and so sorry for those who couldn’t. The whole experience is dehumanizing for the people and demoralizing for their families. The fact that you and your husband made it out the other end stronger than you were in the beginning is a testament to God’s shining grace.

    I’m glad this dark night is over for you. Sometimes you can get to a place in life where, even though you know you will still have trials and challenges and pain, you can say with certainty “the worst is over”. Praise God He was with you through your worst.

    Thank you. Yes! We wouldn’t have survived this without God.

  3. Janean

    Our county jail would not allow children. I felt the most for the older ladies who came after church in their nice clothes to visit a child. I would look at them and pray “Oh, please, dear God. don’t ever make me go through this with one of my children.” It’s nice to know I wasn’t the only one laying my palm against the glass…


  4. Sarah

    I sit with tears in my eyes…. knowing all too well that feeling, wanting desperately to feel his hand instead of the glass. Wanting to stay every second possible. Thank you for this repost, I didn’t read it the first time. What a true blessing you are to me!

    Thank you, Sarah for your kind words.

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