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Saturday, April 02, 2011

Begin a story with “The day he went to Disneyland, I went to . . .”

Share the first paragraph (or two) here.

2 comments:

Debbie D said...

The day he went to Disneyland, I went to the state penitentiary to visit his father. As he waited in the California sunshine for the gates to open to a day of magic with grandma and grandpa, I stood shivering in the parking lot, looking up at the stone wall that surrounds Washington State Penitentiary in Walla Walla. As he waited in line to ride the Matterhorn, I sat in a drab holding area that smelled of urine and misery. As he ate a snowcone and watched Cinderella dance on Main Street, I was patted down by a burly female guard who never looked me in the eye. As he posed for pictures with Mickey and Minnie, I sat across from the man from whom he inherited his sky-blue eyes, separated by a wall of plexiglass. More than anything I wished that he would never see his father here, caged and defeated. But this was the real world, not a place where dreams always come true.

Barb said...

Wow, Debbie - I love the description of the holding area smelling of "urine and misery". It's evocative and even though misery doesn't have a particular smell, I can just imagine. It actually conjures images of what the floor tile looks like and the wall color - but maybe that's just me....