The searing heat is awful, and my dry throat longs for water; unfortunately, I left my water bottle in the van. It’s Friday morning; two days before I am to go home. The Texas sun is relentlessly beating down on me. Each step I take makes my glasses slide further down my nose, and my feet ache. Sweat beads start to pool on my skin, causing the dust to stick to me. The piercing honks of the...
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My husband came in from work carrying a laundry basket. The white plastic sides were stretched out of shape and cracked in a few places, but neatly folded inside was a stack of blue jeans Alejandra had sent to me for my grandsons. Tears came to my eyes when I saw those little garments because that basket could have been empty.
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I reached for the clock before it went off at 4:30a.m. Why had I even bothered to set it? I’d hoped that sleep would find me and bring a temporary reprieve from the day I now faced. It didn’t. Things had been set in motion, and I had to respond to the day’s cruel schedule. That fateful day was in 1976. I would learn in the future, sadly much too late, that this was my only child’s life.
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