This time last week…

21 Feb

Letters through the crack in my door. That slither of air which offers the prospect of some wider space beyond the four walls that entomb me daily, today hands me the first post from my girlfriend.

She’s suffered my disjointed life since 2009, she’s never known me with a full freedom many relationships need to survive. Curfews and endless goodbyes have framed our merry little time together. In spite of this all, we’ve thrived, I’VE thrived, every bit of us was integral in me attaining my new sense of contentment in life. Picnics in London Fields, tramping around the East End in the wee hours, dizzied on Cider and Smiles and in every nook, a new passion we share  a common love for.

The letters are in a disjointed order, it seems I have numbers 4 to 6, so where’s 1 and 3? Do I wait, will it spoil it? I don’t wait, I can’t wait, I rip open the envelopes, carefully forwarded on by her little sis-come-secretary; a proper gem for doing this.

A broad smile rips across my face, for the first time, my emotions soften, is this an artistic way to say I had a tear in my eye? Behave!

I grab my notebook and pen and begin to make annotations and notes, this is the nearest we get to a conversation, so I make sure I miss no question or query and keep the letters fluid. I have a feeling the letters are going to get a little longer now, my 4 pads of paper look like they will struggle to see out a couple of months, let alone a sentence. (No pun intended) -> (No seriously, NO PUN intended)

The letters indicate a sense of shock and worry in the earlier ones, I begin to wonder what kind of heartpouring went into those I don’t have.

I lay on my bed and re-read the notes again, I rest my head on a pillow case filled to a firmness not dissimilar to concrete, using only pants, socks and a prison jumper. Still no pillows here, my necks been aching for days now. It strikes me how a government facility can’t deal with such an elementary issue of pillow procurement. All pain is eased though, right now, medicated by the handfuls of paper filled with the thoughts of my sweetheart.

I pen a poem to pop in my reply as my mind wanders over my sentencing:

“2 Years said/

Incandescent/

Judge Hails/

Sat resplendent/

Sharp Practice/

Ethic Less/

Be nice – he’s not/

They’re tactless/

Take him down!/

What?/

Take me where now?/

Pint sized Jim/

I’m cuffed to him/

Leads me off/

Head bowed in sin”

I head to bed with that smile still there. Time happy is time well spent. I make a point of laughing every day, the initial shock is waning and replaced with a plan of action. A plan to make the time go by as best as possible. I tell my family the same in another letter I put to sleep. I tell them:

“Don’t be sad, as I am not,

Be happy and know that I spend each day smiling,

I love you all and soon you’ll have your son back”

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: