I recently went on my first road trip in many years. I had to go to Franklin Medical Center, the prison hospital, for some specialized testing. My feet were shackled, my hands cuffed to my waist, and I had to wear a hideous orange transportation outfit. However, my barely containable excitement over leaving the Ohio Reformatory for Women for a day completely overrode the discomfort (and embarrassing fashion statement).
The fully-armed officers driving and escorting were ones I've known for years, giving me a sense of relief and safety. They laughed and only rolled their eyes a little when I jokingly asked if we could stop at McDonald's on the way. The answer was a definitive "no."
When we got rolling on the highway, it seemed we were traveling extremely fast -- until we were passed by car after SUV after truck. So, apparently, we were not speeding and I just didn't remember what going 65 mph was like. From my seat in the back of the van, I could feel the road as it created a kind of rhythm that was quite soothing for my over-excited self.
With my attention riveted to the scenery, looking though the bars on the windows wasn't difficult. It's the same as when I look out the window of my cell; while the bars obviously still exist, I don't necessarily see them, I see the great outdoors.
On this trip, I was busy reading billboards! The very first one I saw outside of Marysville proclaimed this: "Who the Son sets free is free indeed," and "JESUS" was highlighted as the background. I didn't expect Him to be on a highway billboard! I was struck deeply by the message and all I could muster was "thank you, Jesus." Though I was not technically free, I sure felt free indeed. I truly hoped every person in every vehicle saw that message because it was profoundly meaningful for every day.
Some of the billboards changed seemingly by magic -- I would blink and a different message appeared. It took me a minute to realize they weren't magic, they were electronic. But they sure did the trick, capturing my eyes with their snazzy changing colors.
Sooner than I expected, we arrived at the outskirts of Dublin and got stuck in my first traffic jam in 30 years! Several times, we came to a complete stop on the freeway, and I was probably the only one really happy about that. It gave me more time to look around and take in the countless changes in landscape, cars, buildings, and to people-watch. There were plenty of commuters looking less than happy at the traffic slowdown and I drew the conclusion that this is nothing new for them.
I was particularly thrilled to see the Anthony Thomas candy factory. It's not quite as majestic as Willy Wonka's but significant enough to make me sing the "Oompa Loompa" song to myself. If the windows were not sealed shut in the van, I bet I could have smelled chocolate-scented air. A tour and a tasting are now on my To Do When I Get Home list, for sure!
Much farther south was Cooper Stadium. I was surprised and a little bummed at its condition. When I was young, my family used to go to Columbus Clippers games there; our seats were behind the third base dugout. My brothers and I would run up and down the ramps and go exploring. Dad taught me the fundamentals of baseball scorekeeping, and Mom bought us Cracker Jack. What more could a kid ask for?
After my appointment at FMC, the return trip was equally fascinating. We passed Westland Mall as it was being torn down. It evoked memories of spending Saturdays at Northland with my friends. I know Northland is gone too, though. Since I've never been to the Easton, Polaris or Tuttle Crossing malls, those are all on my TDWIGH list because I'm a mall-girl at heart.
The fields between Columbus and Marysville were breathtaking, although there aren't as many as years ago. The ones remaining gave me a powerful sense of openness and tranquility. It was too early in the season to plow, so covering the fields were vast patches of knee-high yellow flowers. I don't know what they were, but they were beautiful. I just wanted to stand in the middle of the field, be surrounded by flowers and such serene stillness, and maybe hear some crickets. As we passed by, I was greatly appreciative of the view and thanked God for creating it.
The regular Marysville exit was closed, so we had to detour through part of town. I was absolutely overjoyed at being in civilization!
It was a blessing to be in the midst of regular people doing regular things: mowing the lawn, chasing a dog, sitting on a front porch that looked exactly like my grandparents' porch. I became teary-eyed and sentimental as I remembered those easy, wonderful days.
By the time we pulled into ORW's long driveway, I was emotionally exhausted. My journey was over. I'd been so close to society, but I'd not set foot on the ground. This realization stoked the fire in my soul to do whatever it takes to become worthy of a second chance -- of putting my foot on society's ground.
I want to be a real Ohioan, not just an inmate passing through on a medical trip. And one day I will, because Jesus reminded me on a highway billboard that there is hope for my future. I am so grateful this incredible excursion allowed me a foretaste of heaven in "the heart of it all."
Michele Williams is an inmate at the Ohio Reformatory for Women.
