thoughts on visiting prison for the third time

the third time around, they've made some improvements.  there is now a permanent shelter in the parking lot, to protect people who are waiting from the rain or the heat.  there is a metal box in the shelter that contains the form you have to fill out, so you can do that before you get inside the security building.  i wonder if someone had to pass out in the waiting line before they installed this shelter.  maybe not.

the line was short yesterday.  as i arrived they were letting the first 10 people in, and i found myself in a line with only 7 people (and 1 baby) in line in front of me, so i would be in the next group.  we waited 30 minutes, during which time i made friends with sadie the baby and tried to befriend the freckle-faced third grader in front of me (he had no interest).  it doesn't rain on us.  small victories.

inside, i got to see my friend before count, which i hadn't gotten inside early enough to do the previous two times. at 10am, the guards do a count of all the prisoners, which can apparently take half an hour or even 45 minutes.  during that time, no one can change locations within the prison, which means that no visitors can enter during count and if you're already in the visiting room but your prisoner hasn't come in yet, you have to wait out that time before they are allowed to come in.  so after arriving and getting in the line at 8:40, my friend entered the visiting room at 9:45.  this is lightening quick in prison terms.

over the next four hours i filled him up as best i could, with my $22 in quarters: two sausage, egg, and cheese biscuits.  one kit kat bar.  one bacon cheeseburger.  two juices, a root beer, and a coke.  we laughed and talked and people-watched.  sadie is the great niece of his former cellmate, so we marveled at the small-world aspect of me meeting them in line and then getting to see his friend meet the new baby in the visiting room.  on this day i marveled at the fact that there were probably 40 prisoners who got a visitor, out of a prison population at this facility of 1300.  1260 men did not get visited, and my friend on any given weekend is more likely to be one of those people than to be the one getting the visitor.  he has 23 months to go.

i wonder about who he will be when he leaves, about what our relationship will be like.

when i leave he says "i love you," and i say "i love you, too."  this is how we end every phone call (five or six of them a year), every email, and every visit.  we didn't say it before, but it seems imperative to say it now.