ABSTRACT
Sitting in an empty classroom in the Education Department at FCI Danbury, 2 while others are participating in Christmas caroling on the yard, I take time to reflect on the holidays that have gone by since I have been in this oppressed state—incarceration. Daydreaming of what it would be like if I were home: the food that I would eat, laying in my grandmother’s arms, sitting at the dinner table hours after having eaten, laughing at my Dad and uncles throwing cracks at each other, and most of all seeing my son’s excited face Christmas morning.
