#prison visits

Visiting a Federal Penitentiary So, first of all, I'm not at all a stranger to the prison system. My biological father has been in and out, as has my sister's dad, who I see as my actual dad. As I pulled up to the prison, they interviewed me through an intercom, gathering my details so they could be ready to help as I went inside. I hesitantly walked into the main building, not sure if I was supposed to be there. The woman at the desk collected my keys and all my ID, giving me a paper in return that I had to fill out with all my information. I couldn't help but feel like I was doing everything wrong, but the woman was doing her best to make me calm down as well as maintain her professional and quick process. As the other visitors and I were ready to enter into the prison, an officer walked with us. We entered locked door after locked door, me doing my best to understand how it all worked in case I ever got the chance to come back. I don't remember the types of facilities I've been in, federal or state. I've had visits at phone banks, visits at round tables in big open rooms, visits where you can touch, visits where you can't. In the prison that my dad currently occupies, all there is is banks of seats, like an airport or a waiting room. I sat right next to families of four who were trying to stay within their cramped spaces. I wanted to give them space, so I sat at the very end, trying to fold into myself. It was a very long wait. I sat acrossed from a squared off play room, watching small children play with blocks and books and cars. I wanted to cry. That had once been me, oblivious to why I was here, spending my time with toys instead of my family. A mother came to collect her boy while he screamed about how he didn't want to see his father. I didn't know how to feel or react as I caught her eyes. I gave a very forced smile and looked away, insanely worried I was being too weird, if I looked judgmental. I couldn't help but notice how pale I was. Like a torn piece of paper stuck in a pile of gravel, where colors mixed in every shade of the earth. I stuck out like crazy. Not to mention that it was obvious it was my first time visiting a prison on my own. I was completely removed from my comfort zone, as I wasn't even in my home state. I felt vulnerable and scared. As the time passed, I started to worry that my dad wasn't even coming. It had been ten minutes, alone in a room of over thirty people, then fifteen, and twenty. Finally, I heard movement on the opposite side of the heavy metal door separating the prison from the visitation room. I watched anxiously and my dad walked out, making the butterflies in my stomach beat around harder. I stood out of excitement and he smiled and nodded, telling me to wait as he walked away. I deflated, falling back into the chair. I knew all he was doing was checking in, but I had spent so much time alone, I just wanted someone to show that I wasn't a complete stranger in this place. As he came back, we hugged tightly. I didn't want to let go. It had been eleven years. I had so much to say that couldn't have been written in the letters we shared, but it all flew out of my brain. We sat in our conjoined chairs, talking away. He asked about my sister, my mother, my grandparents. We talked about memories and dreams. I told him I had been diagnosed with depression and I could tell he understood. He had never been the best at English, but he expressed his emotions as good as possible. Prison seemed to be doing okay for him. He was attending classes to be better at English, and he had actually gained weight. As we wrapped up our visit, a fellow inmate had taken pictures for us. I got them nearly two and a half months later. It was so surreal. I had only ever had my picture taken with my biological father, where I was up to his waist. With my dad, we were the same height. Both of us had misty eyes, knowing that this would probably be our last time together. After pictures, I went back to the officer alone and he took me out. I stood outside, processing the entire thing as I waited for the guard tower to evaluate me. I collected all my belongings and left, unsure of how satisfied I truly was. The entire way back to the conference I was attending, I processed the situation. When I returned to my friends, one asked me all the questions about topics that I should have spoken about. °˖✧◝( ツ )◜✧˖° Anyway, that was it. That was my visit.