After catching Covid and being moved to our new quarantine area, we thought we were finally in the home stretch. We woke one morning to a bunch of commotion. The Captain and Sargent came to let us know that the other group who came prior was being forced to pack out and leave. We were devastated! We also felt terrible because in a round about way, the blame was shifting to us. Their lives were fine until we showed up. Once they left to return to Muncy, they then told us to pack up to move back to where we were in the dorm. The difference was that they moved us where the group just left from. The cheerful decor now looked like a war zone. We would never see or speak to the rest of our group until months later. Everything changed. We went from total privilege to don’t do this, don’t do that. The only way we could wash our clothes were in the washer and dryer they bought for us. Well they were so concerned about washing uniforms that we finally said something. They were worried about uniforms no one would ever wear vs clothes we needed then and now. One lady finally said she felt like a piece of dust just waiting to be put into the dust pan with everything else. The calendar clicked closer to Christmas. We begged them, PLEASE don’t move us at Christmas. Remember my fiasco a year prior started on Christmas Eve? My Mom kept hearing that the Governor was going to cease all inmate transports because of Covid. We finally had a little hope we could maybe stay by chance. The excitement though of any holiday cheer had already dashed away. December 22nd, the door flew open in a flash but it wasn’t jolly Saint Nick!
Gracefully Broken
The Carpenter’s Daughter 