By Grace
I wake up. I see the daylight rising. Although recently, I see more of the darkness.
I am not a morning person—never have been. But, somehow, waking up in prison I have realized there's worse things I can wake up to.
Over the past few nights, I've woken up to poodles barking. Back and forth they bark over whose cellblock is whose.
I have been awakened by my menstrual cycle. I know, TMI. Although my wiser friends have told me I'll be happy when it alerts "No Menopause," because it's a little voice telling me "You still got it."
Tonight, I watched Joe Garcia's Daylight, a documentary by The New Yorker of him leaving prison after 21 years. Yes, after 21 years, he goes home. And as someone who is serving a 21-year-to-life sentence I realize...it actually happens. Like, it's not just hope, but it is honest hope. The hope living in the present.
After 21 years, Joe finds connection to the world he once lived in through the art of music. More specifically, through the art of Taylor Swift. The world is no longer one he is apart from, but the world he is a part of.
His friends—inside and out—are so happy they have his writings to be indulged in. Through journalism, he doesn't create a divide but quite the opposite: he makes people happy.
Through the power of writing, this is what we do. For a lack of a better term, we are bridging the gap. The gap between us and the world. The gap between us and what the world thinks of us. The gap between what we think we know and what we just...don't.
Joe reunites with the love of his life. With that, I am reminded love exists. And it can exist. Because there's a chapter that comes after these four walls.
So, to the little old me who grew up screaming Swifty, there is a "Story of Us" that's a lot (more) than a tragedy now. And that story, doesn't end here.