PRISON
Prison is a forsaken gloomy place with no hope of the happiness of a
bright sun shiny day. It is an eight by ten foot existence within bars and walls
that hold in a soul and hold out happiness.
Yet, there are prisons with carpeted floors, computer access, open doors
and windows where the sun shines in and the fresh air is but a step way. Prisons
that allow evening drives, long distance calls, even travel and overnight stays
in distance places. In these prisons, there are no locked doors or bars, no
mandatory meal times or exercise periods. Nevertheless, it is a prison in every
sense of the word, in that they hold in a soul and hold out happiness.
In these prisons, one can have pets, own property, drink beer, and even
on the odd occasion have sex. However, it is still a prison.
These are places of no hope, no sense of well being, and no chance of
independence. They exist in the space of thirteen-hundred square feet or in
one-hundred-eight acres. It can be as big as a county or a state or small as a
one-bedroom apartment or the cab of a three-quarter ton pick-up.
The size and location can change daily or remain the same for a lifetime.
In this prison, one is never alone, yet never has company. Visitors can
come and go at all hours of the day and night. Yet, when the room is full its
still a prison. It is a hell created by another and filled with others from
which there is no escape, no parole, and no release.
This is world where creativity is stifled on a daily biases. A place
where taking a shower is obscene, where clothes are never satisfactorily clean,
but brushing ones teeth can not be done enough.
In this arena, trashcans do not exist. Refuse can be placed anywhere
there is a flat surface. Everything has its place but you can put anything
anywhere. If it is in the wrong place then someone else put it there. Books
belong in the freezer, soap goes in the dryer, dogs can not potty in the dark,
lights must be on, water is unlimited and free, money is only spent when you
want something, and if you want something money is no object.
Time does not exist here. In one minute, it can be now and in the next,
it is thirty years in the past. Those that have passed are not gone just not
home. The birth of a child is joyous but it means that some one somewhere at
some time was nude and unchaste.
Nothing needs to be done in this existence yet everything has to be done.
One only needs to point it out to others who are there only to be told what to
do.
One is never at fault here but there is always something wrong, never any
problems, and there are always others to blame.
Socks never match, though they are and have been pined together since the
came out of the package. Clothes never fit but were comfortable yesterday. In
addition, they never belong to you but they are yours.
Everything is yours, even things you never had. Moreover, it if does
belong to others it is because they stole it from you.
One has no friends but knows everybody. Some body can visit even after
they have died. If a friend moves away or does not visit then they are dead.
Now if, after all this rambling, you are wondering where this hell on
earth is? Let me tell you. Such is the life, world and existence of the
caretaker for a person with Alzheimer’s!
© June 25, 2004
Short Grass Enterprises, Inc.
All rights reserved