I am waiting impatiently for the last part of the meal to be done. “Ding” The microwave timer tells me now the final part of our meal is done. I get the food out, and place it carefully on top of the rest of our lunch. The only thing left to do is take the cake to the table. “Should I get it now, or wait until after we have finished eating our lunch?” I wonder. I decide to wait. After all, the line at the vending machine might be shorter after we eat.

I take the heated-up sandwiches, small bags of chips, chocolate milk, and cans of pop back to my 2 little boys and my husband. They are sitting around the small table in the middle of the prison visiting room. I see the mixture of excitement and pain in my son’s eyes as he sees me coming with the food. He is so excited to be celebrating his birthday with his daddy; but so sad to have another birthday party in a prison visiting room. “Happy Birthday, baby boy!” I say as warmly as I can muster before dropping a kiss on his forehead and depositing the food onto the table.