I didn't know what to expect. Well, I did, on a high level: take your ID, money/card for vending, dress appropriately, blah blah blah. Now that my first visit with Matthew, in prison, is over I'm trying to take inventory of my feelings and thoughts and everything just slams together in a big pile of mashed potatoes. I can say this: in the past six weeks, this is the closest I've been to crying. I just can't seem to drop the floodgates...
Matthew looked good. He's put on a few pounds around the midsection and he is sporting "mutton chops" and the closest I've ever seen him have what looks like a beard. He still has his wit and humor and he was genuinely surprised to see me. The block he is housed on has been on lock down for more than a week due to the death of an inmate, having been beaten to death with a lock, so he hadn't seen the emails I sent to him letting him know I would be visiting today. Seeing him smile when I walked into the visiting room -- there are no words. None.
Matthew and I spent the better part of four hours talking, laughing, reminiscing...healing. We talked about prison gangs, terrible prison food, brutal nicotine withdrawal, and Xavier. I told Matthew about taking Xavier to his first semi-pro soccer game, his missing teeth and how much he's grown. There was a sadness in Matthew then that I tread lightly on. It's the first time I saw remorse in Matthew, and it surprised me. I had hoped and prayed that Matthew felt remorse for his actions...
It's been such a long day and I didn't sleep much the past two nights so I will close out this post, and this glass of wine, with...
...hurdle...hurdled...
...tears falling...
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