Yesterday was a good day.  For the first time in over a year, we saw our son in person and were able to hug him.  The feeling can't be explained.

It was a cold and dreary day.  We drove miles into nowhere before seeing the sign that announced "Bledsoe County Correctional Complex". The buildings were cold grey concrete with a splash of yellow on the facade that seemed out of place.  It looked welcoming.  There were several concrete buildings and they were all surrounded by fences that were taller than any human should be able to climb.  But should anyone consider it, one look at the loops of razor sharp barbed wire at the top would cause a second thought.

When we arrived they were doing "count".  Turns out that four times a day they count every inmate.  Everything shuts down during this time.  So we waited.  After waiting over a year and a three and a half hour drive, what's a few more minutes.  When their count was verified they begin processing the visitors.

They took our ID and noted who we were visiting in a large hard-back blue notebook.  It struck me as odd that in this age of technology they would use such an old-fashioned method.  The sergeant had beautiful handwriting and she took her time scripting the date, my name, my son's name, and our relationship.  Next we put our coats and shoes into a bin to be scanned while we were escorted into a room to be patted down.  You can't take in ANYTHING.  Our hand was stamped with invisible ink that would later show up under a black light to indicate we were approved visitors.  Then we started our walk down a hall that was easily the distance of our walk in from the parking lot.  Three heavy automatic doors later we entered the visitor's area.

The room had one wall of windows showcasing the cold and snowy day.  There were grey padded chairs throughout the large room and the guard indicated where we should sit.  We scanned the faces as we moved to our seats, but didn't see our boy yet.  In taking in the room, we noticed restrooms marked visitors and others marked inmates.  There were several small rooms to one side marked visitation, but no one seemed to be in them.  Children played in a glassed playroom that was filled with toys. A television played some kind of cartoon that none of them watched.  We also noted a wide array of vending machines that seemed to have everything from sandwiches, burritos and pizza to ice cream and pie.

We were so busy checking our surroundings, that we didn't even notice our son creep up behind us.  What a surprise!  And even better, one of the best hugs I've ever had in my life.

So we talked, hugged, held hands and spend over two hours having conversations that belied the fact we were sitting in a prison in the middle of nowhere with other families who were going through similar trials.  And when I looked around, I wondered about their stories.  But today was about our family seeing our son and pretending, for a short time, that everything was fine.

To be continued...