Six Years
A little more than six years ago I heard the fateful words, "twelve years hard labor" spoken by the public servant responsible for saying such things. The future seemed an obscure, surreal thing; nothing more than an impenetrable haze concealing something which I would never witness. Slowly a plan developed. The fog gradually dissipated and I caught a glimpse of that which I never expected to see. Not only did I see it, but it looked pretty damn good. My plans solidified into goals and my attitude continued its metamorphosis. Before I realized what was happening, I was studying for the ACT, helping men with special learning needs get GEDs, teaching myself quadratics, and serving as legal council to my peers. Then my day arrived. In the company of my Mom, Dianne and John I stated my case before the parole board and acquired my conditional freedom. That was two years ago. Now I have reached the halfway point of my twelve years--an opportune time to request a full reinstatement into society. Sitting in my outbox, only four feet away from where I compose this entry, is an envelope containing my application for clemency. An application which, if granted, would allow me all the freedoms of "normal" member of society with the exception of the right to bear arms. So any of you, my loved ones, who read this, keep your fingers crossed and say a prayer for me if you don't mind...I'm going to need it.