From Dragonfly: The Smiles and Frowns

Every day, as I sit outside my case manager's office, I see the women enter and leave her office. We all just want to get out of here - some to transfer to a different facility, some to halfway house, some just across the street, and some to home confinement or home at the end of their sentence. No matter what, we stand there, waiting, for her attention to tell us our next steps and hear news. Often, many of us leave with frowns. No new news. No known next steps. Just wait.

However, today, I watched many people with smiles. Two women got news that they are being transferred to other facilities. A couple people learned that they will be transferred across the street, to the camp. Among those people, Lola was one of them. That means that before I even leave the prison, Lola will be safely across the street, with no fences. They have a puppy program, and she hopes to be given the opportunity to train a puppy. She'd be great at that. For the longest time, we had imagined her walking me out of here, but instead it will be me, walking her out.

I left with a frown. No new news on how processing my exit is going. My case worker called someone at the region I should have been processed through. They need to call her back. It's the first time we actually reached anyone, so that's progress.

On news about my dad, there's no update. He's home resting. The docs haven't received all his results yet. He'll have a game plan for treatments to extend life on May 15th (if there are any). His voice sounds better. I just hope his hope holds out too.

I will keep going, every day, to my case manager's office for an update. It's the only thing I have the ability to do. I will see many of the same faces that walked out with frowns today, as well. One day, each of us will be the one's with smiles.