another letter day

I haven't quite recovered from the weekend yet and feel like my life is like a mountain of puzzle pieces dumped out of a box. I have to start putting pieces together in some logical order, but for now I'll let Brandon have the floor. There was a letter waiting for us when we got home.

"I received your last three letters (and money orders) in rapid succession. Seems like the whole family decided to have their collective crises all at once. Being in jail gives you a rather exclusive sense of helplessness in these situations. Sure, there wouldn't be much I could do it I were free, but at least I would have the option to make a trip if necessary. It's like being in a coma only you catch up on events you missed in near real time. I always thought we were about as close and traditional as a modern family outside of a gated community could get. That we are immune to getting cancer, jail time, divorces, or losing our homes. I stopped kidding myself about all that years ago, but I'm still surprised when it happens. You have to ask youself: when one sister goes to jail and the other's a lawyer do you call it convenience or irony? Still, prison will never help Lindy. It doesn't help anybody except help protect the homeless from bad weather. It only serves to punish. Even then it falls short. I believe jail should be reserved for those who commit crimes against their fellow man. That may seem self-evident, but I still see some of the harshest sentences dealt out to those who evade some sort of tax. Or don't pay parking/speeding tickets, or fines, or parole/probation/house arrest expenses. Think about it. If drug dealers paid income tax would any of them see the inside of any correctional institution? This gives me the impression I can do as I please as long as the U.S. Treasury is the beneficiary."

Well, that is the reality of prison time for all of us. These next few years will be spent trying to keep Brandon informed about our lives, but it is hard to do in the pages of a letter or in a compressed visit of just a few hours. I can't believe I didn't see him for two months. The time went by so quickly and I cannot remember everything that happened. It takes me mental and emotional preparation time to go see him, and then more work to leave him. I'm trying, and I know he is, too.