Making cotton candy unveils profound gratitude in prison, highlighting moments of joy behind bars.
Every quarter, the BOP (Bureau of Prisons) incentivizes us to complete FSA (First Step Act) classes. I work in the re-entry department, and my boss is in charge of these incentives.
My side bunkie, Kristen, offered to come help me make 200 bags of cotton candy. We arrived at 7:30 am and discovered an industrial-sized cotton candy machine. We were no longer playing around with an Amazon kiddy machine; we were in for a ride with this thing.
After loading the machine with the sugar mix and flipping it on, a dust of tiny, fancy cotton particles steadily floated right out into the air. We tried our best to get it to attach neatly to the stick, but that required a skill set we did not possess. I am pretty sure that some extensive training is required to obtain a carnival-grade shape.
We resorted to scooping it off into a large bag and then separating it into smaller bags to hand out. Nevertheless, as the ladies came through, we were blasted with, “Is this it? Where is my hot dog? I don’t like that color.”
At this point, we had been making cotton candy for six hours, and I wanted to say, “Look, you’re in prison and getting cotton candy; be quiet.”
It was extremely disheartening. After all the bags were passed out, Kristen and I realized we had become the human sticks to which all the particles of cotton candy had attached. Eyebrows, eyelashes, hair—everything was covered with a gracious amount of cotton candy. We just stood there and laughed.
I realized at that moment how lucky I am to be here. Horrible things are happening in prisons today, but I am here laughing, covered in cotton candy.
Pause. Breathe. Be grateful for every moment!
April Sparkman #16455510
FPC Alderson B3
Glen Ray Rd. Box A
P.O. Box A
Alderson, WV 24910
