Not even Easter Sunday forgets about those of us locked away from the world. Jesus may have risen from the dead and dislodged the boulder that hemmed in his cave but we mere mortals in purgatory-red lack the strength or resolve to achieve a similar feat. Perhaps it has something to do with our diet. Our morning breakfast was but a cold muffin and coffee. I’m told that such a special day as this will be commemorated with a brunch at 11:00 am. Waffles, I’m informed. My only question is, ‘how will they fit them into a styrofoam cup. It should be a feat proportional to that of Jesus’ improbable accomplishment. One thing’s for certain. The body temperature of the resurrected saviour will be far warmer than the brunch we are to savour!
As we have all had three straight days off heading into our fourth this morning, sleeping patterns are becoming erratic. This is of little concern to the on-duty C.O. however. Being Easter long weekend, all of the heads with any sort of tenure are away with their families or the easter bunny. This leaves us with all of the rookies. Low end of the totem pole types such as this are ridiculously by the book. Today’s plebe made his rounds of the range with a regularity not often seen around here. Most everyone was stirred at 6:00 am from their slumber by the invasive flicker of the C.O.’s trusty flashlight. The protocol for making rounds is something like every 20-30 minutes. Unannounced entrances into our rooms to see that we aren’t smoking lint or fixing to hang ourselves for having nothing to smoke but lint, I assume. More relaxed C.O.’s will keep to doing rounds every couple of hours. But on this weekend and more particularly this morning, such irritation began at 6:00 am sharp, and has continued through to present. Sitting around awake at 6:30 am with nothing to do but wait on an 8:00 am coffee and muffin. Ah, holidays! Methinks that the dust bunnies have a greater likelihood of being combusted once stirred from our sleep, as opposed to when lolling about in dream. Given that this place is more rehab centre than jail, I suppose that the rude awakening by torchlight stalled out many a dream of smoking substances far more potent and addictive than lint!
So now with a cold muffin and coffee settling on my belly, I sit in wait of my scheduled visit with Ted and Gail. They’ve seen fit to set aside some of their time on Easter Sunday to come see me. Such kind and sweet friends! I wonder if Jesus craved something on his belly after three days of death? Perhaps there was a roadside kiosk nearby his cave. “A latte and muffin if you please. And yes, I would like the muffin heated up for I am certainly no heathen… nor Campbell House inmate.”
 offers a glimpse of what it’s like on the other side of the razor-wire fence.){kind=link}