Return to Sender

It is difficult to be the one different from my sisters. Some boys at my old school made fun of me, calling me an “illegal alien.” What is illegal about me? Only that I was born on the wrong side of a border? As for “alien,” I asked the teacher’s helper, and she explained that an alien is a creature from outer space who does not even belong on this earth! So, where am I supposed to go?

Even at home, I feel so alone sometimes. I cannot tell Papá about the boys making fun because he would pull us out of school, especially now that he is so protective after you left. I cannot speak to my little sisters, as I don’t want to worry them any more than they are. […] And how could any of them understand why I feel so lonely? I am not like my sisters, who are little American girls as they were born here and they don’t know anything else.

“Mari, it is not a good idea for you to send those letters,” he began. Then, very gently, he explained how we are not legal in this country. How Mexicans getting mail might alert la migra to raid a certain address.

“But, Papá, a lot of Americans have Spanish names! Look at Luby. Look at Ofie!”

Papá just kept shaking his head. I think that having to live secretly for years in this country has made him imagine danger where it doesn’t exist. “You can save them until you see your mother again,” he said. “How wonderful it will be for her to sit down and read them over and know all the things that happened while she was away.” […] I don’t think he allows himself to miss you as much as he really does, Mamá, or we would all be too sad to continue […]

“I meant to say hi to the girls,” Mom explains.

Tyler puts his head in his hands so he doesn’t have to see anything but his bowl of cereal. Too late he remembers his mother has told him this is rude. Horses have blinkers, not humans. But sometimes, Tyler hates to tell her, sometimes he would just as soon see less, not more, of the world around him, a world full of accidents, bad luck, and Mom’s good ideas.

But maybe because he just got home yesterday, his mom doesn’t say anything about his blinkers. Instead she starts in on the sappy stuff that always makes Tyler cave in to her good ideas. “They don’t seem to have a mother and they’re just cooped up in that trailer. It’d be really nice if you maybe just popped in and made them feel welcome.”

[Tyler’s] parents return, long-faced from the confrontation at Grandma’s house. Grandma has told her children that if they try to move her out of her house, she’ll run away, which is kind of funny, Grandma running away from home to protest being forced to leave her home.

Except that it’s not funny, Tyler thinks, wishing he could travel to another galaxy. He’d pick a planet with lots of farms and no borders or bullies bossing you around. His grandmother has told him that’s what heaven is like. But Tyler doesn’t want to have to die to go there, although it might be nice to join his grandfather and get to eavesdrop on the rest of the family plotting and planning on the earth below—without getting in trouble with his mother.

Ofie and Luby have spoken with you on the phone, so you probably have noticed how they’re forgetting their Spanish. Sometimes I even have to translate between Papá and them, imagine! Papá gets upset, but we can’t really blame them. All they know is the United Sates, and they spend their days at school or at Grandma’s house, speaking English. Of course, if Mamá were here, it would be different. She always was so proud of México and told us many stories about her life there. Papá works so hard, and when he gets home, all he wants to do is throw himself down on the couch and watch the Spanish channels. It makes him feel happy to be hearing his own language and seeing people who look like us even if they’re only on TV.

Cargo?! Tyler can’t believe a human being would think of another human being that way! But he knows what Mari means about the demonstrations. It’s all over the news. In cities around the country, there have been big marches by people in favor of changing the laws to help immigrants. Just in Los Angelos, thousands upon thousands of people took to the street. Then, a week before Tyler’s 4-H club is supposed to go on its trip, there’s a national strike. People who support immigrants are asked to stay home from work. In D.C. there’s a huge protest march. The camera sweeps over the crowd waving American and Mexican flags and chanting “¡Sí, se puede!” which Tyler proudly translates for his family. Yes, we can! Yes, we can!

We spent the rest of the time walking around the city. Even Sara didn’t complain or ask to go shopping. But we didn’t see any demonstrators like we had seen on television. The streets were calm and full of people enjoying the beautiful spring weather. Everywhere there were so many flowers, like Nature was celebrating its quinceañera.

At first, Mamá clung to my hand, afraid she’d be picked up. But soon, she, too, relaxed as if she realized this was not just the capital of one country, but the home of everyone who loves freedom.

One of the places we visited was this stone wall engraved with the names of thousands upon thousands of soldiers who fought and died in a war not long ago. The stone was black and shiny, so you could see your reflection as well as the blooming trees and the clouds in the sky.

I meant to do it on Sunday, but my sisters called me down for a special program about swallows on TV. They know swallows are my favorite animal because of the song “La Golondrina.”

I didn’t realize there was so much to know about them! How they fly for days and days, eating and even making babies as they fly, so desperate are they to get where they are going. How they bring good luck to farmers when they nest in their barns (Tyler says his grandfather would never let anyone disturb a swallow’s nest, even when the milk inspector said there was too much of their poop around.) Best of all is how, like my own family, swallows have two homes, one in North America and one in South America.

What’s funny, well, not so funny, is that a yar ago, I just wouldn’t have accepted the idea of not living here. It kind of drove me crazy, if you want to know the truth. My parents had to ship me off to my aunt and uncle’s just to get my mind off the worry.

But now, I don’t know. I still think this has to be one of the most beautiful places on earth—like you yourself said. But somehow, though the idea of not farming still makes me real sad, I can accept it a lot better. Maybe losing Gramps helped me practice losing? Or just knowing what you and your family have gone through makes me feel like it could be a lot worse. Also, I guess I’m seeing other sides that might be fun, like having more time for things I love besides farming.

We sat quietly savoring the name like it was a taste in our mouths. Stars and Swallows. Estrellas y Golondrinas.

“In a few weeks, they’ll be back,” Abuelote broke the silence. It took me a second to realize what he was talking about.

“We wait and wait,” Abuelota agreed. “And our hearts are not complete till we see those golondrinas coming back, filling the sky.”

“As numerous as stars,” Abuelito observed.

I knew then how much my grandparents had missed us, how a part of their very own hearts had been missing until now. How we were the ones they had been waiting for.

We all grew quiet again, looking up, feeling the specialness of this night before we would fly apart.

Tu amiga, para siempre and forever, too,
Mari