“Wherever we have to go, as long as you study.”
They moved into a small rented room near the market. The bathroom was shared with other families. The roof leaked during heavy rains.
Teresa washed clothes for her neighbors. She cleaned houses in the wealthier neighborhoods. She continued to sell tamales. She took on sewing jobs until late at night.
Her hands creaked. Her back ached constantly.
But he never allowed his children to consider quitting.
YEARS AWAY
Marco arrived first. Paolo followed shortly after.
But becoming a commercial pilot required hours of flight, certifications, and endless training.
The opportunity finally came: abroad.
At the Mexico City airport they hugged their mother tightly.
“We’ll be back,” Marco promised.
“When we make it, you will be the first person to board our plane,” Paolo added.
Teresa smiled through her tears.
“Don't worry about me. Take care of yourselves.”
And then the waiting began.
Twenty years.
Twenty years of phone calls that sometimes cut off mid-sentence. Voice memos he listened to over and over again. Video calls he'd learned to use with the help of a neighbor.
Twenty birthdays spent alone.
Every time he heard a plane pass overhead, he would go outside and look up.
“Maybe he’s one of my boys,” she whispered.
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