Around 5 a.m. I wake up, wash my face, brush my teeth and make a cup of coffee. It’s strong and smells good.
My cellmate, a 38-year-old transgender woman named Lexie, a fellow Prison Journalism Project contributor, is usually awake by then, so we talk to start the day together. I’ve known her for 7 months. We get along great.
Sometimes, I watch the news to see what the weather will be like. On this day, it’s cloudy and cool outside. The air smells fresh.
Breakfast is typically served between 6:30 and 7:30 a.m. Lexie and I go to eat in the chow hall, or cafeteria. Sliced bologna, which tastes bland, is served with grits and blueberry cake.
I come back to my cell. My cell feels like home with all the improvements I’ve made. I have hung pictures of family and friends, and added shelves for pepper, salt, honey and BBQ sauce.
Between 9 and 10, morning medication is called. Because Lexie is in a wheelchair right now, I push her to the medication line, where we wait outside for a nurse to dispense pills.
Count time is at 11 a.m. Everyone has to be in their cells while the population is counted to make sure no one has escaped. I use this time to wash laundry in my trash can or play games on my 7-inch electronic tablet. Sometimes, I take a nap and Lexie wakes me up when my name is called for count.
Often, count is messed up by the guards not adding the correct number of people to their list. This pushes back things like chow hall, recreation and the library. Today, the count is cleared on time, which is nice.
Lunch is around noon. Today, it’s a BBQ sauce-covered soy patty and baked beans. It looks good, but it doesn’t taste good. I guess looks can be deceiving. Usually, I bring along a jar of spice mix made with garlic, taco seasoning, ramen soup flavor packets and pepper. It helps the meal taste better.
Recreation is at 1:30 p.m. on our yard. I go outside and talk to my friends. We sit at a steel picnic table. Lexie comes too.
While on recreation, the sun peeks through the clouds and shines so bright I have to cover my eyes, since I have no sunglasses. It feels warm and tingly. I hear a train rumbling in the distance.
About an hour into recreation, I see one of my good friends come out of the housing unit. I have not seen him in a couple weeks, so it is a nice surprise. His name is DJ. He paints in his spare time and works in the clothing factory, which is located on the prison grounds.
On the field, I see some people playing softball. I can sense Lexie longing to be able to get out of her wheelchair and play. She loves the sport, but can’t right now because she has a tumor in her head that messes up her balance.
At 3:30 p.m., it’s time to lock down in my cell and prepare once again for count. They clear count efficiently.
Dinner is around 5. Tonight it’s a broccoli, cheese and rice casserole, with a cookie for dessert.
I eat with Lexie and feel full. I’m glad I won’t go to bed hungry tonight.
We hear from a guard that someone has found a piece of metal in their cookie, so Lexie and I don’t eat ours. Others also skip their cookies.
Back at the housing unit, I push Lexie to get her evening medications. Luckily, it didn’t rain. It’s no fun getting soaked waiting in the medication line.
Around 7:30, still in line, I see my brother, whom I haven’t seen in nearly a month. He lives in a different housing unit than me. He has been incarcerated since the 1970s. I have been incarcerated for 44 years. How time flies.
Next, it is time for my nightly shower. I use the middle shower because I like the way the water streams out of its showerhead. Plus, with this one, I don’t have to hit the button every couple of seconds to keep the water on. It stays on for around a minute or two.
After my shower, I watch wrestling with Lexie. Tonight is Saturday, which means that AEW Collision will be on TNT. Lexie and I share a bag of popcorn from the commissary while we watch. I can’t help but think how lucky I am to have such a good cellmate.
Wrestling ends at 9 p.m. I stretch my legs and yawn.
Tomorrow is Father’s Day. I think I’ll call my daughter Christa. We talk almost daily.
By 9:30 p.m. I am in bed. I count sheep until I fall asleep.
