Driving back home tonight from an evening with the incarcerated. Talking to my clients on a Sunday evening gives them a feeling that they are not forgotten.
I can see how they would feel that way. As I waited to be released from the attorney room (yes, they lock us in there) I had a view of a locked metal door with a metal flap on it. There was a towel rolled up at the base of the door. It was an isolation cell. No natural light. No moving air. The towel is to block both. No control over anything. The jailers control the light, the water in the sink and the toilet. No stimulation whatsoever.
I knew that there was a human in that room.
And there was nothing I could do about it.
I left feeling angry and frustrated and wondering why I do this (again)
And as I got to the "really nasty part of that feeling sorry for myself in this position" thing, I came around the corner that gave me a view of the Pacific Ocean at Pismo Beach.
It was almost 8 o'clock and the sun was down. But the light gave the ocean a teal green hue that sparkled like the London Topaz that I wore on my left ring finger. And I thought of Dan.
And I thought of the Cheese Ball (see earlier posts) and the fact that going out on Sunday made somebody feel better and that Dan always encouraged me to do that.
And then he would have a cup of tea ready for me at the end of his road and we would watch the Ocean. The Great Pacific Ocean.
And we would be reminded that we are very, very tiny.