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It was just another typical day in jail when word arrived. As soon as my name was called and the paper handed to me at morning muster, mixed feelings of surprise and anticipation began welling up inside. “This is unexpected today,” I thought, before quickly turning to “Who's it from I wonder?” Flipping over to the sender it leapt off the paper: the letter was from a distant friend.
And like so many of my fellow inmates, I felt a sudden fear I was about to be rejected.
Memories instantly flooded my mind: the last time we had seen each other; the last time we had spoken; the last text. I had been quietly hoping for this, yet had pushed it deep and far away as it had been ages since there was any contact between us. I retreated to my cell to reveal what the letter had in store.
It was just another typical day in jail when word arrived. As soon as my name was called and the paper handed to me at morning muster, mixed feelings of surprise and anticipation began welling up inside. “This is unexpected today,” I thought, before quickly turning to “Who's it from I wonder?” Flipping over to the sender it leapt off the paper: the letter was from a distant friend.
And like so many of my fellow inmates, I felt a sudden fear I was about to be rejected.
Memories instantly flooded my mind: the last time we had seen each other; the last time we had spoken; the last text. I had been quietly hoping for this, yet had pushed it deep and far away as it had been ages since there was any contact between us. I retreated to my cell to reveal what the letter had in store.
Separating the photocopies, I eagerly started reading. An update on how my friend had been and everything he'd been doing was there, as was a good sense of what life was like on the outside. But ahead of all that one thing struck the heart strings most: “Sorry for taking so long to write, you've been on my mind though,” the opening lines read. “How are you? Hope you're doing well.”
Just a few simple expressions said more than a couple of pages of detail ever could.
The feeling that I exist and am cared for by someone I thought I had lost carried meaning far beyond words. I buzzed with happiness, glad that making the first move to write to this distant friend all that time ago had paid off.
It didn't matter that there had been uncertainty about whether there would ever be a reply, or when the reply might come, or how long it might be. That all faded into the background. Because when it arrived, quality was better than quantity.
Separating the photocopies, I eagerly started reading. An update on how my friend had been and everything he'd been doing was there, as was a good sense of what life was like on the outside. But ahead of all that one thing struck the heart strings most: “Sorry for taking so long to write, you've been on my mind though,” the opening lines read. “How are you? Hope you're doing well.”
Just a few simple expressions said more than a couple of pages of detail ever could.
The feeling that I exist and am cared for by someone I thought I had lost carried meaning far beyond words. I buzzed with happiness, glad that making the first move to write to this distant friend all that time ago had paid off.
It didn't matter that there had been uncertainty about whether there would ever be a reply, or when the reply might come, or how long it might be. That all faded into the background. Because when it arrived, quality was better than quantity.
Even behind bars, there are ways to soften the edges. Ways not just to pass the time, but to leave prison carrying something more than the baggage you came in with.
The other old men and I never thought our lives would come to this. But here we gather again, like withered autumn leaves, awaiting the 7 am call for muster. Occasionally we stare at the large blank television screen which has been positioned high up in a corner of our small common room. What are we looking for?
I spat my first fireball on the shore of Warwick's Leslie Dam over half a century ago. That freaky moment was the flashpoint for a short but spectacular career as a professional fire breather. It gave me money and notoriety, but it very nearly killed me.
Victoria has just announced a raft of changes to youth justice. It will uplift a number of children’s offences to face adult prison terms, and will also introduce a new ‘Violence Reduction Unit’ to coordinate crime prevention policies across government.
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Help us get About Time off the ground. All donations are tax deductible and will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
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