TWO MOONS

       Joey was so excited to see me this morning, like I'd been gone a long time and nobody had filled in. What a sweetheart.

       There was no cooking needed for lunch, but dinner preparations were underway—chicken, green beans and rice. Lunch was made up of plates left from previous meals and a huge pan of donated barbeque. Everyone who wanted extra could have it.

       It must be about time for my favorite pre-release fellow to get out. He's grown on me awfully. I tell him, "You be good, 'cause I'll be watching. You won't see me, but I'll be there…" Then he tells his friends. It's nice to feel like you can make a difference even if it's just for a few minutes. Two weeks back, I didn't get to spend time with him because he had to eat and go straight back to his room—he had not been good. Joey gets the funniest look on his face when he tells me one of the guys has misbehaved. He looks like a parent!

       We only needed 15 sack lunches today and no PBJs! I got to mix with my people to my heart's content. The little moon-face boy who once had dark circles under his eyes is still living there with his dad. They walk to church every Sunday, dressed alike. There was another moon face at lunch—a tiny girl maybe 20 months with busy blonde curls framing her wide cheeks and big eyes. I made a baby plate for her, cutting everything up for finger foods. She was excited to get her plate, not picky like other children I have seen.

       Joey's getting good grades at school. Honestly, I thought he'd have tired of school by now, but no. For next week, we talked about my making a huge pot of homemade soup. It's hard to plan big events like that, not knowing what will be in the larder from week to week. It's turning off colder now, and soup would hit the spot.

       Mr. Wilson wasn't there. You notice when 350 pounds goes missing. Still, there was an upbeat air about the place, and our music was appreciated by many.

       Heard a great story from the door-locker fellow. Joey and I call him "One": A resident missed dinner and came to the kitchen at 6 p.m. asking for a plate. "I'm dying!" she said. She was told that dinner was over and snacks would be served at 7. "But I'm dying!" she cried, and One put up his arms in a pleading gesture. "I'm dying!" the girl continued. Still she was denied. Then she asked, "What did they have for dinner?"

       "Fish," he answered.

       "Oh," said the girl. "Never mind."

      The young woman who filled in for me last week came again today, right in time to rescue my aching feet! Another satisfying 2-1/2 hours in bliss. Y'all come back now, you hear?