Phase Two-Week One

What a dreamer I am. I thought I'd pick Ron up at Taft on Wednesday, drive him to the halfway house for Orientation, then home, and we'd all live happily after. That's not quite the way it's working out, so my Monday blogs will continue with what I am calling "Phase Two."

I arrived at Taft at 7am on Wednesday morning. I couldn't sleep the night before. I was so excited about picking Ron up. He was released at 7:25am. He came out with a box filled with all the cards and letters he had received in the past six months, some books, and legal and medical papers. I had brought him some street clothes, which he quickly changed into, put his prison garb in a plastic bag, and we were out the door. We had gone about a half mile when he remembered that he had left $18 in the pocket of the pants he had turned in. This was what he had left in his commissary account, and they gave it to him in cash. I asked if he wanted to go back for the money. I think you know his answer. NO!

We had a great day. We stopped at Denny's in Valencia for bacon and eggs, and the best cup of coffee Ron had had in a long time. He was surprised that breakfast cost $20. I brought his cell phone with me so he could call family and friends. Would you believe he had forgotten how to pull up his contacts, recall numbers and other features, but within 15 minutes it all came back. We arrived home before noon, relaxed for an hour, then headed to the halfway house, which is located near the Coronado Bridge.

Ron had been lead to believe that he would be home before the end of the week. Orientation, and home. It didn't turn out that way. First, the halfway house is filled with all kinds of people, many of them pretty scary. I was afraid to leave him there, and he wasn't too happy with the raucous atmosphere and the tough looking residents. I was much more uncomfortable than when I had dropped him at Taft.

Within a few hours, Ron called to say that all was well. There were a few men who helped get him settled, and the food tastes gourmet compared to what he is used to. Now it's just a matter of waiting. His case worker should contact him within 72 hours, give him his orientation, and tell him when he can go home. It should be right away, but I won't bet on it.

So here we are, I'm driving back and forth to the halfway house, which is a lot better than driving to Taft, but still quite tiring. I always say, "It's not over until the fat lady sings." Well, she's not singing yet, so I'll keep blogging as long as Phase Two is interesting. I don't know what's coming next week, but I'm sure there will be something unexpected that I'll want to tell you about. Stay tuned.