I Have a Nub and Paper

Hi, Mom.

Just settling in. Not much to report, so I'll tell you about my day. The grey stripped bed in the corner reminds me of the war movies grandad and I watched on Saturdays. Only, it isn't some glorious act I'm waiting to perform for patriotism. It's just grey. I unfolded the mattress and sat for a while, thinking about what just happened to me.

The guy already in here just rolled over and grumbled at me something about the toilet. I wouldn't exactly call it a toilet, though. Looks like the bathroom set-up in the yellow camper we had. But, it's grey, too. He has scribbled some things on the walls, or at least I think it was him. I'll write more about my cell mate when I get to know him.

Just got back from lunch/supper. We get one proper meal a day, and then snacks popped through the bars the rest of the day. I haven't earned time outside in the yard, yet. So I spent the day inside. Different people came by throughout the day to tell me about schedules: meals, showers, earned recreation, medical check-ups (although, Jason--that's my cell mate's name--says that part is pure BS), and work duties.

I have nothing but the clothes they gave me. Jason seems okay, but he is definitely depressed and farts worse than Uncle Ian. There is one bright spot. I found some scrap paper and a pencil nub. So, that's how I'm writing to you.

Send my love to the family, and tell them I'm fine. That last part might be what Jason calls BS.

Love you.