From Dragonfly: Images

There are so many times I wish I had a camera. I've always loved photography - as a hobby. Here, though, we have no access to be able to catch a moment with a picture or a short video. So, I'm trying to capture them in my mind. I started a journal solely of "images" I would have captured if I had a camera - good and bad, mundane and odd, interesting and different. There are a lot of moments here, and if I did have a camera, I'd call the photos, "Images of Carswell." So, all I can do is capture these images in my mind, and perhaps write them down.

Yesterday, I was able to see many interesting images. There was the softball game on the yard, that could be any women, enjoying America's favorite past time. The faces of those of us trying to watch the NCAA tournament at indoor rec as the scores bounced up and leadership changed several times. There was the elderly woman, curled up in a ball on her bed with bleeding kidneys, not knowing what to do. The image of the pigeons, in heat now, chasing each other around the yard until they start to kiss and then mate. The image of the woman in the wheelchair, who feeds the pigeons, allowing them to sit on her arms and legs.

There was the image of a beautiful, sunny day, with women swarming the outdoor blue benches, talking, gossiping, laughing, and, yet, some crying. There is the image of a couple, breaking up, fighting through words, with their friends surrounding them, picking sides. There's the image of an officer, telling our unit last night, that one of our own has passed away - a woman just in her 20's/early 30's who'd had a lung transplant prior to her incarceration. And then there's the image of us, receiving that information, grateful that an officer took a moment to actually tell us and sad at the news. There's the image of the women going to her former roommates, across the way from where my room is, and consoling them.

There's the image of a woman, being brought to the SHU for whatever reason. Then, the image of the officer, overloaded with all her locker contents, trying to do the necessary inventory before packing them in the required green bags. Then, there's the image of two women, getting out of the SHU after who knows how long (a couple days, weeks, months...) and carrying their green bags to the unit they are now assigned to. People rushing up to them to hug them and see how they are. Time without any word from them has left many curious and happy to finally see their friends.

There's the image of people in full uniform, heading into visitation, waiting for the officer to open the door. They have smiles on their faces. Later, images of women leaving visitation. Their uniform is usually no longer fully buttoned up, their t-shirt no longer tucked in, as they walk back to their housing units. Sometimes they look back, to see if their family members are not yet outside the prison gates, sometimes they are super happy, other times, they have a tear or a frown. They say, "yes," to everyone who asks if they had a good visit. Some ask them what they ate - everyone thinks about the different foods we get if/when we get a visit.

There's the vision of food, left at the curb next to the opening of the sewer. Sometimes people are gathered there, waiting or "awing" as they see the raccoon(s) (cat-coons according to me and Lola). Sometimes two eyes are staring at us, sometimes six or more - the mother and her babies still live in there. Sometimes one will come out to grab food, and eat an orange or bread or noodles, whatever has been provided to them, right there with people watching.

There's the images of spring, with trees starting to bloom. Inmates working the landscaping crew are planting new things around campus. People are in t-shirts and shorts, walking the track, or playing horseshoes. There's images of people swiftly walking in the rain, or laying on their back catching some rays.

Then, there are this morning's early images. The incredible sunrise with pink and orange and clouds swiftly moving, while other clouds, lower, stay dormant. The inmates running the path to breakfast and their bananas. The others, swiftly going to commissary with their white or green mesh bags, along with the mesh grey shoulder bag. The same inmates slowly making their way back to their housing units, carrying a bag full of goodies, almost looking like Santa Clause images on Christmas, the bag flung behind their back (wishing they had a sleigh so they could put the darn heavy bag down). Inmates with bananas in their pockets, bananas in their hands, bananas being traded, bananas being peeled and eaten.

There are images of women, trying to sneak where the 'law' doesn't go so they can get in a good morning hug or kiss; always aware that someone could be watching. There is the image of a woman sweeping her floor, with a roommate screaming at her from behind telling her she doesn't know how to clean the room correctly. There are women making their beds with pretty crocheted blankets of pink, or brown, or green, or white, or grey, or all of the above. Other beds being made with institutional sheets and blankets adorning them. Everyone is trying to get their room to look like the pictures, hanging on the bulletin boards, telling us how a proper room should look during weekdays - 7:30am-4pm - possible inspection hours.

There's the image of the bathroom sinks and mirrors, seven in a row, with ten people attempting to use them for brushing teeth, doing fancy hairdos, applying makeup, or just washing their hands after using the toilets. There is the woman on a phone, sitting on the floor in the corner, with the length of the phone cord stretched to it's end, crying, and saying, "I love you." There is the image of women, lined up at the laundry office, waiting to be able to trade in old uniforms and towels for something different, yet very much the same.

Carswell is full of images. All sorts of images. My mind captures so many of them and I often think to myself, gosh, I wish I had a camera. It would be an interesting take on life.