Day 2
On Saturday I saw a man get his life back.
He was escorted to the lobby of the prison where I volunteer as I was signing in. He carried two black garbage bags filled with his belongings. He was dressed not in prison blues but in street clothes. I don’t know him, but I’ve seen him on the compound and recognized his face.
Although this face was different: transformed, smooth and relaxed. The face of relief, joy, peace, freedom.
I don’t know what he was inside for, or for how long. I only know that this morning, he was going home. He’s starting a new chapter. I wish him well. And I will remember him.
YSM | ink 
Great picture of a road home. I trust the fella maxed; because parole isnât freedom.
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Oh, looky, my first troll on my blog! ☺️ Thanks for reading, Mr. Z.
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