I walked in through the large, imposing doors with my grandparents, my head still foggy from falling asleep on the long drive into New Hampshire.
We checked in at the desk, and the man sitting there smiled at me, with a hint of sympathy in his eyes, and showed us where to wait.
Just as we sat down, another door opened, and for the first time in years, I saw my daddy again, as he was ushered into the prison visitation room.
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That’s a sad scenario.
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And an all too real one.
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And that is so touchy
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