Return to Sender

“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 love what one of the presidents before you, Mr. Abraham Lincoln, said: “United we stand, divided we fall.”

Mr. B. explained that this statement is now true for our whole world. He is always teaching us about saving the planet. We are all connected, he says, like an intricate spiderweb. If we dirty the air here in the United States, it will eventually blow over to Canada and maybe kill a bunch of people there. If some factory poisons a river in Mexico, it will flow into Texas and people will die there.

I even thought of my own example! Those swallows that Tyler says fly to Mexico for the fall and winter. Just a week ago, they all left. Suddenly, the backyard was so quiet. I miss them so, and I worry that something might happen to them on the way to Mexico.

“Are you my friend?” I asked in a trembly voice that was the opposite of brave and bold.

Tyler just shrugged, which I knew meant he wasn’t sure anymore. […] “It’s because of what the boys said on the bus, right?” […]

It took him a moment to look up. In his blue eyes I saw little pieces of the beautiful blue summer sky that was now gone until next year. “Just tell me one thing, okay? DO you have the documents my dad said Mexicans have to have to work here?”

Mr. President, I could not tell a lie, just like another of the presidents who went before you, Mr. George Washington, after he cut down the cherry tree. I told Tyler the truth.

[…] “I know it’s not your fault, Mari,” he [said…, “but] I’d rather lose the farm than not be loyal to my country.”

But Tyler has to admit that watching the stars by himself makes him miss Gramps even more. Especially now that Tyler feels so confused about how his parents are maybe breaking the law. He can’t talk to Mom, who would just lecture about freedom and justice and liberty for all, and Dad would feel bad that he can’t do all the work himself, and Ben is never around anymore, and Sara is a blabbermouth, and Grandma would get upset that Gramps can’t help out because he’s dead. That covers all the adults in his family, and Tyler wouldn’t dare mention what’s going on to anyone who isn’t related. As it is, he thinks the farm is already being watched by Homeland Security.

If only those were things Tyler could give her! Instead, that afternoon in the crowded store, Tyler helps his mom pick out a little boxed set of stationery, as Mari is always writing letters, and for Ofie and Luby, a puzzle with puppies and coloring books and crayons. He finds the gifts Mr. Cruz asked for, and from himself, he decides on a package of glow-in-the-dark stars Mari can paste to the ceiling in the trailer. That’ll bring a smile to her face. Christmas tears are just the worst unless they’re the kind that spring to your eyes when you are so touched, your happiness has to borrow from your sadness. As he stands in the checkout line with his mom and Sara, Tyler is amazed how thinking of making Mari happy has lifted the dark cloud that was hanging over his own holiday.

It started when Ofie announced that she was not moving to México. This came up when you were caught and Papá was preparing us for the eventuality that we might be deported.

Papá seemed to be waking up from a long dream that started eight years ago when he and Mamá came to this country. His shoulder slumped as if he were carrying a heavy load.

The very next morning, Ofie asked, “Papá, necesito dinero for my lunch porque hoy sirven grilled cheese sandwiches.”

Papá […] stopped in his tracks. “En espanol,” he reminded her. […]

Ofie folded her arms and stood her ground. “I’m American. I speak English.”

Papá gave her several slow nods. “Bueno, americanita, tendràs que comprar tu almuerzo con tu proprio dinero.”

“That’s not fair,” Ofie cried. […] The little American girl had understood every word of Papá’s Spanish!

Up in the front seat, his parents are complaining about some old guy who always writes letters to the editor. This time his letter was about how a church group shouldn’t be allowed to peddle their refreshments at town meeting, as this country believes in separation of church and state “Grandma sure found her way around that one!” Mom is saying.

Tyler’s grandma and her friends agreed not to put up any sign that they were from the church. But in the icing of her sheet cake, Grandma traced a church, then stuck a little American flag atop the steeple.

Just a few weeks back, Mari told him how her uncle Felipe was a kind of hero to her family. “He ran away from the farm so as not to lead the police to the rest of us,” she explained. But doesn’t that make him a fugitive, not a hero? According to Mari, Felipe is back in Las Margaritas, but already planning to return to keep helping Abuelote and Abuelota and the whole family. Tyler can’t help feeling glad at the thought that his favorite of the three workers might be coming back, even though he knows full well that Felipe doesn’t have a legal right to be in this country.

“It’s treason’s what it is!” An old man’s angry voice breaks into Tyler’s thoughts.

Mr. Rossetti’s motion is voted down almost unanimously. For the first time ever, Tyler feels he has been part of the making of history. Not because he carried the flag and led everyone in saying the Pledge of Allegiance, but because he has seen democracy in action. People speaking up and reminding each other of the most noble and generous principles that are the foundation of being an American as well as a good person. Mr. Bicknell summed it up best: “We’re all born human beings. But we have to earn that e at the end of human with our action so we can truly call ourselves humane beings.”