WALK WITH ME

The quiet of the housing unit had me sitting crossed legs, reading my Bible and praying in the morning. I started each day like this, then I'm off my bunk, stretching. Sleeping on steel has my back stiff, so I'm bent over, fist on the floor. Bones crack, loudly. A cup of warm water, and a fish oil pill were digested as I strolled into the day room.

Everybody was up early, chatting, emailing, and standing around the microwave nuking coffee. Me, I'm always in line for Jpay. I searched for emails from family, then I followed the herd to the chow hall...breakfast was a freaking PB&J sandwich. That had me skipping breakfast.

My work crew was outside waiting for me to dump the facility's trash. We meander. It's Saturday, the big dogs weren't there, so a few minutes of fresh air was a must. After, we're pushing a trash cart, picking up discarded wrappers, orange peelings, and enough nonsense that I'm at my sink, rubbing soap up and down my arms and face. The nasty things my fellow incarcerated do...wash up.

Now, I'm in my cell, preparing my meal. Every Saturday we eat. I go around to my guys, picking up their contributions towards the fried noodles, then it's time to work. I'm using my chair, and locker top. Four bowls, mackerels, sausage diced, corn and many seasonings to make the food delicious. I'm Prison Uber Eats. My tips come in the form of thank yous--and I get a large quantity of them.

Count time comes, so I'm watching Snowfall. I'm cursing out Franklin for protecting Leon's dumb ass. He shot a kid, let him go to jail, but no, now Franklin wanted to stand with that moron against Man Boy, Skully, and a grieving baby mama--dumb. But I'll tune in tomorrow to see how it plays out.

When count cleared, I'm on the phone calling a business partner. We're discussing his freedom (he did an eight-year bid), family, and our getting to the bag. We wrote a trilogy, screenplays, and best of all, we're Griselda fans. He's sharing with me about Westside Gunn's "Peppa" video. I'm jealous, because videos are never seen unless I'm up at three AM, watching First Look. That happened once, and that's how I discovered Tate McRae's "Feel Like S**t" song, but not a Westside Gunn video. Groan. Even so, we laughed like brothers, and ended the call with a powerful shutout of our being proud of one another.

I'm More Than An Inmate came out on Wattpad today. My book I wrote about the insanity of prison life. This was amazing, because those that love me see that I'm working on my freedom. The high I'm on, carried me to the chow hall for lunch.

My table was occupied by my friends. Both are authors like me. We conversed over chicken wings, donuts, and ice-cold ups of water. It was joyous, but everything shifted to outside recreation when a correction officer told us the recreation yard was open. We departed. Them for the yard, me, the phone.

I'm making calls to those I love, then I'm at the table working. No days off. I made that a slogan for my freedom. It stuck, because I'm head down in a workbook that shared with me about Rosa Parks being an activist, and angered by Emmett Till's death, so she sat down on a bus when asked to give up her seat for a white person. I even worked on my screenplay about a serial killer and a cop. I also added a couple of lines to my journal, then I moseyed into one of my friend's cells.

College football is back, and what comes with it are discussions on what tickets to bet on. It's the culture in here, but for me, I'm just having a conversation about sports.

Dinner arrived and I didn't enter the chow hall. They had some crap I didn't care to ingest, so I spun around and found a friend to talk with as we headed back to the housing unit.

Lockdown came, so as I sat in my cell, I started watching Abigail. The kid vampire craze worked on this movie--blood and guts. It took me back to when I watched George Clooney in From Dusk Till Dawn; the violence and blood were over the top.

Count cleared, so I headed to my religious service and met an older man that came back to prison after a twenty-year bid. He said he wanted to have something to talk with his son about, since he was a Hebrew Israelite...while he waits on his release date: 2078.

I'm strolling back to my housing unit, enjoying the night sky with a buddy of mine. He asked if I could give him a Ramen noodle until we get our commissary next Thursday. I gave him the noodles and some other snacks that he wouldn't have to pay back. He said, "Thank you." I watched him making a meal before I locked down for the night.

My earbuds were in my ears while I watched AEW Collision. They have a four-way match with women. The match was fun, but honestly, the ladies kept me glued to the thirteen-inch TV screen I own.

The day was great, I prayed, accomplished something big, emailed family, cooked; and the best of all deeds, helped a buddy of mine with food. Now I'm eating a donut I saved from lunch. Hey, maybe to you it's not your average Saturday, but to me it is. How was yours?